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ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 


By  Roy  Chapman  Andrews 

ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 
CAMPS  AND  TRAILS  IN  CHINA 

[With  Yvette  Borup  Andrews] 

WHALE  HUNTING  WITH 
GUN  AND  CAMERA 


D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY 

Publishers,  New  York 
T245 


t«  t      .  .   .         *• 


*        c       «  c 
«  «  t        e 


A    NOMAD    OF    THE    MONGOLIAN    PLAINS 


ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 


A  NATURALIST'S   ACCOUNT   OP 
CHINA'S  "GREAT  NORTHWEST" 


BY 


gJjudU 


ROY  CHAPMAN  ANDREWS 

ASSOCIATE   CURATOR  OF  MAMMAI^   IN   THE   AMERICAN    MUSEUM   OF  NATURAL 
HISTORY,   AND   LEADER  OF  THE  MUSEUM's    SECOND    ASIATIC    EXPE- 
DITION.     AUTHOR  OF   "whale    HUNTING  WITH   GUN  AND 
CAMERA,"   "camps  AND  TRAILS  IN  CHINA,"   ETC. 


PHOTOGBAPHS  BY 

YVETTE  BORUP  ANDREWS 

Photographer  of  the 
Second  Asiatic  Expedition 


;  ii\d .. 


D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY 
NEW  YORK:     LONDON:     MCMXXI 


COPTHIGHT,    1921,   BT 

D.  APPLETON  AND   COMPANY 


raxsnsD  in  the  united  statis  of 


THIS    BOOK     IS    AFFECTIONATELY     DEDICATED    TO 

Dr.  J.  A.  ALLEN 

WHO,  THROUGH  HIS  PROFOUND  KNOWLEDGE,  UNSELFISH 
DEVOTION  TO  SCIENCE,  AND  NEVER-FAILING  SYMPATHY 
WITH  YOUNGER  STUDENTS  OP  ZOOLOGY  HAS 
BEEN  AN  EXAMPLE  AND  AN  INSPIRATION  DURING 
THE     YEARS      I     HAVE     WORKED     AT     HIS     SIDE. 


442547 


PREFACE 

During  1916-1917  the  First  Asiatic  Expedition  of  the 
American  Museum  of  Natural  History  carried  on  zoological 
explorations  along  the  frontiers  of  Tibet  and  Burma  in  the 
little  known  province  of  Yiin-nan,  China.  The  narrative  of 
that  expedition  has  already  been  given  to  the  public  in  the  first 
book  of  this  series  "Camps  and  Trails  in  China."  It  was  al- 
ways the  intention  of  the  American  Museum  to  continue  the 
Asiatic  investigations,  and  my  presence  in  China  on  other  work 
in  1918  gave  the  desired  opportunity  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
war. 

Having  made  extensive  collections  along  the  southeast- 
ern edge  of  the  great  central  Asian  plateau,  it  was  especially 
desirable  to  obtain  a  representation  of  the  fauna  from  the 
northeastern  part  in  preparation  for  the  great  expedition 
which,  I  am  glad  to  say,  is  now  in  course  of  preparation,  and 
which  will  conduct  work  in  various  other  branches  of  science. 
Consequently,  my  wife  and  I  spent  one  of  the  most  delightful 
years  of  our  lives  in  Mongolia  and  North  China  on  the  Second 
Asiatic  Expedition  of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  His- 
tory. 

The  present  book  is  the  narrative  of  our  work  and  travels. 
As  in  "Camps  and  Trails"  I  have  written  it  entirely  from  the 
sportsman's  standpoint  and  have  purposely  avoided  scientific 
details  which  would  prove  uninteresting  or  wearisome  to  the 
general  public.  Full  reports  of  the  expedition's  results  will 
appear  in  due  course  in  the  Museum's  scientific  publications 
and  to  them  I  would  refer  those  readers  who  wish  further  de- 
tails of  the  Mongolian  fauna. 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

Asia  is  the  most  fascinating  hunting  ground  in  all  the  world, 
not  because  of  the  quantity  of  game  to  be  found  there  but 
because  of  its  qiiality^  and  scientific  importance.  Central  Asia 
was  the  point  of  origin  and  distribution  for  many  mammals 
which  inhabit  other  parts  of  the  earth  to-day  and  the  habits 
and  relationships  of  some  of  its  big  game  animals  are  almost 
unknown.  Because  of  unceasing  native  persecution,  lack  of 
protection,  the  continued  destruction  of  forests  and  the  ever 
increasing  facilities  for  transportation  to  the  remote  districts 
of  the  interior,  many  of  China's  most  interesting  and  impor- 
tant forms  of  wild  life  are  doomed  to  extermination  in  the  very 
near  future. 

Fortunately  world  museums  are  awakening  to  the  necessity 
of  obtaining  representative  series  of  Asiatic  mammals  before 
it  is  too  late,  and  to  the  broad  vision  of  the  President  and 
Board  of  Trustees  of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  His- 
tory my  wife  and  I  owe  the  exceptional  opportunities  which 
have  been  given  us  to  carry  on  zoological  explorations  in  Asia. 

We  are  especially  grateful  to  President  Henry  Fairfield 
Osbom,  who  is  ready,  always,  to  support  enthusiastically  any 
plans  which  tend  to  increase  knowledge  of  China  or  to 
strengthen  cordial  relations  between  the  United  States  and  the 
Chinese  Republic. 

Director  F.  A.  Lucas  and  Assistant  Secretary  George  H. 
Sherwood  have  never  failed  in  their  attention  to  the  needs  of 
our  expeditions  when  in  the  field  and  to  them  I  extend  our  best 
thanks. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  L.  Bemheimer,  who  hav€  contributed 
to  every  expedition  in  which  I  have  taken  part,  generously 
rendered  financial  aid  for  the  Mongolian  work. 

My  wife,  who  is  ever  my  best  assistant  in  the  field,  was 
responsible  for  all  the  photographic  work  of  the  expedition  and 
I  have  drawn  much  upon  her  daily  "Journals"  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  this  book. 


PREFACE  ix 

I  wish  to  acknowledge  the  kindness  of  the  Editors  of  Har- 
per*s  Magazine,  Natural  History,  Asia  Magazine  and  the 
Trans-Pacific  Magazine  in  whose  publications  parts  of  this 
book  have  already  appeared. 

We  are  indebted  to  a  host  of  friends  who  gave  assistance 
to  the  expedition  and  to  us  personally  in  the  field: 

The  Wai  Chiao  Pu  (Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs)  freely 
granted  permits  for  the  expedition  to  travel  throughout  China 
and  extended  other  courtesies  for  which  I  wish  to  express  ap- 
preciation on  behalf  of  the  President  and  Board  of  Trustees 
of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History. 

In  Peking,  His  Excellency  Paul  S.  Reinsch,  formerly  Ameri- 
can Minister  to  China,  Dr.  C.  D.  Tenney,  Mr.  Willys  Peck, 
Mr.  Ernest  B.  Price  and  other  members  of  the  Legation  staff 
obtained  import  permits  and  attended  to  many  details  con- 
nected with  the  Chinese  Government. 

Mr.  A.  M.  Guptil  acted  as  our  Peking  representative  while 
we  were  in  the  field  and  assumed  much  annoying  detail  in  for- 
warding and  receiving  shipments  of  supplies  and  equipment. 
Other  gentlemen  in  Peking  who  rendered  us  courtesies  in  va- 
rious ways  are  Commanders  I.  V.  Gillis  and  C.  T.  Hutchins, 
Dr.  George  D.  Wilder,  Dr.  J.  G.  Anderson  and  Messrs.  H.  C. 
Faxon,  E.  G.  Smith,  C.  R.  Bennett,  M.  E.  Weatherall  and  J. 
Kenrick. 

In  Kalgan,  Mr.  Charles  L.  Coltman  arranged  for  the  trans- 
portation of  the  expedition  to  Mongolia  and  not  only  gratu- 
itously acted  as  our  agent  but  was  always  ready  to  devote  his 
own  time  and  the  use  of  his  motor  cars  to  further  the  work 
of  the  party. 

In  Urga,  Mr.  F.  A.  Larsen  of  Anderson,  Meyer  &  Company, 
was  of  invaluable  assistance  in  obtaining  horses,  carts  and 
other  equipment  for  the  expedition  as  well  as  in  giving  us  the 
benefit  of  his  long  and  unique  experience  in  Mongolia. 

Mr.  E.  V.  Olufsen  of  Anderson,  Meyer  &  Company,  put  him- 


X  PREFACE 

self,  his  house,  and  his  servants  at  our  disposal  whenever  we 
were  in  Urga  and  aided  us  in  innumerable  ways. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oscar  Mamen  often  entertained  us  in  their 
home.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  L.  MacCallie,  who  accompanied  us  on 
one  trip  across  Mongolia  and  later  resided  temporarily  in 
Urga,  brought  equipment  for  us  across  Mongolia  and  enter- 
tained us  while  we  were  preparing  to  return  to  Peking. 

Monsieur  A.  Orlow,  Russian  Diplomatic  Agent  in  Urga, 
obtained  permits  from  the  Mongolian  Government  for  our  work 
in  the  Urga  region  and  gave  us  much  valuable  advice. 

In  south  China,  Reverend  H.  Castle  of  Tunglu,  and  Rev- 
erend Lacy  Moffet  planned  a  delightful  hunting  trip  for  us 
in  Che-kiang  Province. 

In  Shanghai  the  Hon.  E.  S.  Cunningham,  American  Con- 
sul-General,  materially  aided  the  expedition  in  the  shipment  of 
specimens.  To  Mr.  G.  M.  Jackson,  General  Passenger  Agent 
of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Ocean  Services,  thanks  are  due  for 
arranging  for  rapid  transportation  to  America  of  our  valu- 
able collections. 

Roy  Chapman  Andrews 

American    Museum    op 

Natural  History, 
New  York  City,  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

Preface        •         »         .         •         •         .         *         «         •    '     •      vii 

INTRODUCTION 

Early  conquests  of  the  Mongols — Why  their  power  was  lost — ■ 
Independence  of  Outer  Mongolia — China's  opportunity 
to  obtain  her  former  power  in  Mongolia — General  Hsu 
Shu-tseng — Memorial  to  President  of  China — Cancella- 
tion of  Outer  Mongolia's  autonomy         ....      xix 

CHAPTER  I 

ENTERING    THE    LAND    OP    MYSTERY 

Arrival  in  Kalgan — The  Hutukhtu's  motor  car — Start  for  the 
great  plateau — Camel  caravans — The  pass — A  motor  car 
on  the  Mongolian  plains — Start  from  Hei-ma-hou — 
Chinese  cultivation — The_Mongol  not  a  farmer — The 
grass-lands  of  Inner  Mongolia — The  first  Mongol  village 
— 'Construction  oi^j/urt — Bird  life — The  telegraph  line         1 

CHAPTER  II 

SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT 

Wells  in  the  desert — Panj-kiang — A  lama  monastery — A 
great  herd  of  antelope — A  wild  chase — Long  range  shoot- 
ing— Amazing  speed — An  exhibition  of  high-class  run- 
ning— DiflSculties  in  traveling — Description  of  the  north- 
ern Mongols — Love  of  sport-^^^Ude^^Bustards — Great 
monastery  at  Turm — The  rolling  plains  of  Outer  Mon- 
golia— Urga  during  the  World  War        .         ,         •         .13 

CHAPTER  III 

A   CHAPTER   OF    ACCIDENTS 

Return  trip — The  "agony  box" — The  first  accident — My 
Czech  and  Cossack  passengers — The  "agony  box"  breaks 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

a  wheel — A  dry  camp — More  motor  trouble — Meeting 
with  Langdon  Warner — Our  game  of  hide-and-seek  in 
the  Orient — An  accident  near  Panj-kiang — We  use  mut- 
ton fat  for  oil — Arrival  at  Hei-ma-hou — A  wet  ride  to 
Kalgan — Trouble  at  the  gate 27 

CHAPTER  IV 

NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL 

Winter  in  Peking — We  leave  for  Mongolia — Inner  Mongolia 
in  spring — Race  with  a  camel — Geese  and  cranes — Go- 
phers— An  electric  light  in  the  desert — Chinese  motor 
companies — An  antelope  buck — A  great  herd — Brilliant 
atmosphere  of  Mongolia — Notes  on  antelope  speed         .       38 

CHAPTER  V 

ANTELOPE    MOVIE    STARS 

Moving  pictures  under  difficulties — A  lost  opportunity — A 
zoological  garden  in  the  desert — Killing  a  wolf — Speed 
of  a  wolf — Antelope  steak  and  parfum  de  chamecui — 
A  caravan — A  wild  wolf-hunt — Sulphuric  acid — The 
Turin  Plains 50 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA 

A  city  of  contrasts — The  Chinese  quarter  like  frontier  Amer- 
ica— A  hamlet  of  modern  Russia — ^An  indescribable 
mixture  of  Mongolia,  Russia  and  China  in  West  Urga — 
Description  of  a  Mongol  woman^ — Urga  like  a  pageant  on 
the  stage  of  a  theater — The  sacred  mountain — The  palace 
of  the  "Living  God" — Love  for  western  inventions — A 
strange  scene  at  the  Hutukhtu's  palace — A  bed  for  the 
Living  Buddha — Lamaism — The  Lama  City — Ceremony 
in  the  temple — Prayer  wheels — Burial  customs — Corpses 
e^ten  by  dogs — The  dogs  of  Mongolia — Cleanliness — 
Food — Morality — *'H.  C.  L."  in  Urga — A  horrible  prison 
—Mr.  F.  A.  Larsen 62 


CONTENTS  adii 

CHAPTER  VII 

THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN 

PAQI 

Beginning  work — Carts — Ponies — Our  interpreter — Mongol 
tent — Native  dolhes  best  for  work — Supplies — How  to 
keep  "fit"  in  the  field — ^Accidents — Sain  Noin  Khan — 
The  first  day — A  night  in  a  yurt — Cranes — We  trade 
horses — Horse  stealing — No  mammals — Birds — Break- 
ing a  cart  horse — Mongol  ponies    .....       84 

CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LURE   OF  THE   PLAINS 

Trapping  marmots — Skins  valuable  as  furs — Native  methods 
of  hunting — A  marmot  dance — Habits — The  first  hunt- 
ing-camp— Our  Mongol  neighbors — After  antelope  on 
horseback — The  first  buck — A  pole-cat — The  second 
day's  hunt- — The  vastness  of  the  plains — Development 
of  a  "land  sense" — Another  antelope     ....       99 

CHAPTER  IX 

HUNTING   ON    THE    TURIN    PLAINS  ^ 

Mongol  hospitality — Camping  on  the  Turin  Plains — An 
enormous  herd  of  antelope — ^A  wonderful  ride — Three 
gazelle — A  dry  camp — My  pony,  Kublai  Khan — Plains 
life  about  a  well — Antelope  babies — ^A  wonderful  pro- 
vision of  nature — Habits — Species  in  Mongolia — The 
"goitre" — Speed — Work  in  camp — Small  mammals         .     116 

CHAPTER  X 

AN    ADVENTURE    IN    THE    LAMA    CITY 

An  unexpected  meeting  with  a  river — Our  new  camp  in  Urga 
— "God's  Brother's  House" — Photographing  in  the  Lama 
City — A  critical  moment — Help  from  Mr.  Olufsen — The 
motion  picture  camera  an  instrument  of  magic — Floods 
in  Urga — Duke  Loobtseng  Yangsen — The  Duchess — 
Vegetables  in  Urga 1S3 


xiv  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XI 

MONGOLS   AT   HOME 

PAGH 

>  The  forests  of  Mongolia — A  bad  day's  work — The  Terelche 
River — Tserin  Dorchy's  family — ^A  wild-wood  romance 
— Evening  in  the  valley — Doctoring  the  natives — A  clever 
lama — ^A  popular  magazine — Return  of  Tserin  Dorchy 
— Independence — His  hunt  on  the  Sacred  Mountain — 
Punishment — Hunting  with  the  Mongols — Tsamhcu  and 
"buttered  tea" — A  splendid  roebuck — The  fortune  of  a 
naturalist — Eating  the  deer's  viscera — The  field  meet  of 
the   Terelche   Valley — Horse   races — Wrestling      .         .143 

CHAPTER  XII 

NOMADS   OF   THE    FOREST 

An  ideal  camp — The  first  wapiti — A  roebuck — Currants  and 
berries — Catching  fish — Enormous  trout — ^A  rainy  day  in 
camp — A  wapiti  seen  from  camp — Mongolian  weather — 
Flowers — Beautiful  country — A  musk  deer — Habits  and 
commercial  value — A  wild  boar — Success  and  failure  in 
hunting — We  kill  two  wapiti — Return  to  Urga — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  MacCallie — Packing  the  collections — ^Across  the 
plains  to  Peking I6l 

CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  PASSING  OF  MONGOLIAN  MYSTERY 

Importance  of  Far  East — Desert,  plain,  and  water  in  Mon- 
golia— The  Gobi  Desert — Agriculture — Pastoral  products 
— Treatment  of  wool  and  camel  hair — Marmots  as  a 
valuable  asset — Urga  a  growing  fur  market — Chinese 
merchants — Labor — Gold  mines — Transportation — Motor 
trucks — Passenger  motor  service — Forests — Aeroplanes 
— ^Wireless  telegraph 175 

CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    GREAT   RAM   OF   THE    SHANSI   MOUNTAINS 

Brigands,  Chinese  soldiers  and  "battles" — The_Mongolian 
sheep — ^Harry  Caldwell — Difference  between  North  and 


CONTENTS  XV 

PAGBI 

South  China — The  "dust  age"  in  China — Inns — Brigand 
scouts — The  Tai  Hai  Lake — Splendid  shooting — The 
sheep  mountains — An  awe-inspiring  gorge — An  introduc- 
tion to  the  argali — Caldwell's  big  ram — ^A  herd  of  sheep 
— My  first  ram — A  second  sheep — The  end  of  a  perfect 
day 184 

CHAPTER  XV 

MONGOLIAN    "aRGALi" 

A  long  climb — Roebuck — An  unsuspecting  ram — My  Mongol 
hunter — Donkeys  instead  of  sheep — Two  fine  rams — The 
big  one  lost — A  lecture  on  hunting — A  night  walk  in  the 
cafion — Commander  Hutchins  and  Major  Barker — Tom 
and  I  gtt  a  ram — The  end  of  the  sheep  hunt   .         .         .     205 

CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  HORSE-DEER  OF  SHANSI 

Wu  Tai  Hai — The  "American  Legation" — Interior  of  a  North 
Shansi  house — North  China  villages — The  people — 
"Horse-deer" — The  names  "wapiti"  and  "elk" — ^A  great 
gorge — A  rock  temple — The  hunting  grounds  furnish  a 
surprise — A  huge  bull  wapiti 219 

CHAPTER  XVII 

WAPITI,    ROEBUCK    AND.  GORAL 

Our  camp  in  a  new  village — Game  at  our  door — Concentra- 
tion of  animal  life — Chinese  roebuck — A  splendid  hunt — 
Goral — Difficult  climbing — "Hide  and  seek"  with  a  goral 
' — The  second  wapiti — A  happy  ending  to  a  cold  day     .     2S0 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

WILD  PIGS ANIMAL   AND   HUMAN 

Shansi  Province  famous  for  wild  boar — Flesh  delicious — 
When  to  hunt — ^Where  to  go — Inns  and  coal  gas — Kao- 
chia-chaung — A  long  shot — Our  camp  at  Tziloa — Native 


xvi  CONTENTS 

PAQB 

hunters — A  young  pig — A  hard  chase — Pheasants — ^An- 
other pig — Smith  runs  down  a  big  sow — Chinese  steal 
our  game — A  wounded  boar    .         .         .         .         ,         .241 

CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  HUNTING  PARK   OF   THE   EASTERN   TOMBS 

A  visit  to  Duke  Tsai  Tse — A  "personality" — The  Tung  Ling 
— The  road  to  the  tombs — A  country  inn — The  front 
view  of  the  Tung  Ling — The  tombs  of  the  Empress 
Dowager  and  Ch'ien  Lung — The  "hinterland" — An  area 
of  desolation — Our  camp  in  the  forest — Reeves's  pheasant 
— The  most  beautiful  Chinese  deer — "Blood  horns"  as 
medicine — Goral — Animals  and  birds  of  the  Tung  Ling 
— A  new  method  of  catching  trout — A  forest  fire — Native 
stupidity — Wanton  destruction — China's  great  oppor- 
tunity      ^56 

Index 271 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAOB 

A  Nomad  o£  the  Mongolian  Plains        .         .       Frontispiece 

Roy  Chapman  Andrews  on  "Kublai  Khan"    ....         8 

Yvette  Bornp  Andrews,  Photographer  of  the  Expedition     .         9 

At  the  End  of  the  Lorg  Trail  from  Outer  Mongolia        .         .       20 

Women  of  Southern  Mongolia       .         .         .         .         .         .21 

The  Middle  Ages  and  the  Twentieth  Century       .         .         .34 

A  Mongolian  Antelope  Killed  from  Our  Motor  Car      .         .       »5 

Watering  Camels  at  a  Well  in  the  Gobi  Desert    .         ,         .35 

The  Water  Carrier  for  a  Caravan 46 

A   Thirty-five   Pound   Bustard .47 

Young  Mongolia    .........       47 

Mongol  Horsemen  on  the  Streets  of  Urga    ....       60 

The  Prison  at  Urga 61 

A  Criminal  in  a  Coffin  with  Hands  Manacled  .         .         •         .61 

The  Great  Temple  at  Urga 72 

A  Prayer  Wheel  and  a  Mongol  Lama 72 

Lamas  Calling  the  Gods  at  a  Temple  in  Urga        ...       73 

Mongol  Praying  at  a  Shrine  in  Urga 73 

Mongol  Women  Beside  a  Yurt 82 

The  Headdress  of  a  Mongol  Married  Woman        ...       82 

The  Framework  of  a  Yurt 83 

Mongol  Women  and  a  Lama 83 

The  Traffic  Policeman  on  Urga's  "Broadway"       ...       98 

xvii 


XVUl 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  Mongol  Lama    .... 

The  Grasslands  of  Outer  Mongolia 

Mongol  Herdsmen  Carrying  Lassos 

A  Lone  Camp  on  the  Desert  . 

Tibetan   Yaks         .... 

Our  Caravan  Crossing  the  Terelche  River    . 

Our  Base  Camp  at  the  Edge  of  the  Forest    . 

The  Mongol  Village  of  the  Terelche  Valley   . 

Wrestlers  at  Terelche  Valley  Field  Meet     . 

Women  Spectators  at  the  Field  Meet    . 

Cave  Dwellings  in  North  Shansi  Province    . 

An  Asiatic  Wapiti 

Harry  R.  Caldwell  and  a  Mongolian  Bighorn 
Where  the  Bighorn  Sheep  Are  Found    . 

A  Mongolian  Roebuck 

The  Head  of  the  Record  Ram     . 


Map   of   Mongolia   and   China,   Showing   Route   of   Second 
Asiatic  Expedition  in  Broken  Lines    •        •        •        • 


PACINa 
PAGE 

98 
99 
116 
117 
13* 
135 
148 
149 
164 
165 
184 
185 
185 
216 
217 


225 


INTRODUCTION 

The  romantic  story  of  the  Mongols  and  their  achievements 
has  been  written  so  completely  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  repeat 
it  here  even  though  it  is  as  fascinating  as  a  tale  from  the 
Arabian  Nights.  The  present  status  of  the  country,  how- 
ever, is  but  little  known  to  the  western  world.  In  a  few 
words  I  will  endeavor  to  sketch  the  recent  political  develop- 
ments, some  of  which  occurred  while  we  were  in  Mongolia. 

In  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries  the  great  Genghiz 
Khan  and  his  illustrious  successor  Kublai  Khan  "almost  in  a 
night"  erected  the  greatest  empire  the  world  has  ever  seen. 
Not  only  did  they  conquer  all  of  Asia,  but  they  advanced  in 
Europe  as  far  as  the  Dnieper  leaving  behind  a  trail  of  blood 
and  slaughter. 

All  Europe  rose  against  them,  but  what  could  not  be  ac- 
complished by  force  of  arms  was  wrought  in  the  Mongols 
themselves  by  an  excess  of  luxury.  In  their  victorious  ad- 
vance great  stores  of  treasure  fell  into  their  hands  and  they 
gave  themselves  to  a  life  of  ease  and  indulgence. 

By  nature  the  Mongols  were  hard  riding,  hard  living  war- 
riors, accustomed  to  privation  and  fatigue.  The  poison  of 
luxury  ate  into  the  very  fibers  of  their  being  and  gradually 
they  lost  the  characteristics  which  had  made  them  great.  The 
ruin  of  the  race  was  completed  by  the  introduction  of  Lama- 
ism,  a  religion  which  carries  only  moral  destruction  where  it 
enters,  and  eventually  the  Mongols  passed  under  the  rule  of 
the  once  conquered  Chinese  and  then  under  the  Manchus. 

Until  the  overthrow  of  the  Manchu  regime  in  China  in  1911, 
and  the  establishment  of  the  present  republic,  there  were  no 


XX  INTRODUCTION 

particularly  significant  events  in  Mongolian  history.  But  at 
that  time  the  Russians,  wishing  to  create  a  buffer  state  between 
themselves  and  China  as  well  as  to  obtain  special  commercial 
privileges  in  Mongolia,  aided  the  Mongols  in  rebellion,  fur- 
nished them  with  arms  and  ammunition  and  with  officers  to 
train  their  men. 

A  somewhat  tentative  proclamation  of  independence  for 
Outer  Mongolia  was  issued  in  December,  1911,  by  the  Hu- 
tukhtu  and  nobles  of  Urga,  and  the  Chinese  were  driven  out 
of  the  country  with  little  difficulty.  Beset  with  internal 
troubles,  the  Chinese  paid  but  scant  attention  to  Mongolian 
affairs  until  news  was  received  in  Peking  in  October,  1912, 
that  M.  Korostovetz,  formerly  Russian  Minister  to  China,  had 
arrived  secretly  in  Urga  and  on  November  3,  1912,  had  rec- 
ognized the  independence  of  Outer  Mongolia  on  behalf  of  his 
Government. 

It  then  became  incumbent  upon  China  to  take  official  note 
of  the  situation,  especially  as  foreign  complications  could  not 
be  faced  in  view  of  her  domestic  embarrassments. 

Consequently  on  November  5,  1913,  there  was  concluded  a 
Russo-Chinese  agreement  wherein  Russia  recognized  that  Outer 
Mongolia  was  under  the  suzerainty  of  China,  and  China,  on 
her  part,  admitted  the  autonomy  of  Outer  Mongolia.  The  es- 
sential element  in  the  situation  was  the  fact  that  Russia  stood 
behind  the  Mongols  with  money  and  arms  and  China's  hand 
was  forced  at  a  time  when  she  was  powerless  to  resist. 

Quite  naturally,  Mongolia's  political  status  has  been  a  sore 
point  with  China  and  it  is  hardly  surprising  that  she  should 
have  awaited  an  opportunity  to  reclaim  what  she  considered 
to  be  her  own. 

This  opportunity  arrived  with  the  collapse  of  Russia  and 
the  spread  of  Bolshevism,  for  the  Mongols  were  dependent  upon 
Russia  for  material  assistance  in  anything  resembling  military 
operations,  although,  as  early  as  1914,  they  had  begun  to  re- 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

alize  that  they  were  cultivating  a  dangerous  friend.  The 
Mongolian  army,  at  the  most,  numbered  only  two  or  three 
thousand  poorly  equipped  and  undisciplined  troops  who  would 
require  money  and  organization  before  they  could  become  an 
effective  fighting  force. 

The  Chinese  were  not  slow  to  appreciate  these  conditions  and 
General  Hsu  Shu-tseng,  popularly  known  as  '^Little  Hsu,'*  by 
a  clever  bit  of  Oriental  intrigue  sent  four  thousand  soldiers  to 
Urga  with  the  excuse  of  protecting  the  Mongols  from  a  so- 
called  threatened  invasion  of  Buriats  and  brigands.  A  little 
later  he  himself  arrived  in  a  motor  car  and,  when  the  stage 
was  set,  brought  such  pressure  to  bear  upon  the  Hutukhtu 
and  his  Cabinet  that  they  had  no  recourse  except  to  cancel 
Mongolia's  autonomy  and  ask  to  return  to  their  former  place 
under  Chinese  rule. 

This  they  did  on  November  17,  1919,  in  a  formal  Memorial 
addressed  to  the  President  of  the  Chinese  Republic,  which  is 
quoted  below  as  it  appeared  in  the  Peking  press,  under  date 
of  November  24,  1919 : 

"We,  the  Ministers  and  Vice-Minis ters  [here  follow  their 
names  and  ranks]  of  all  the  departments  of  the  autonomous 
Government  of  Outer  Mongolia,  and  all  the  princes,  dukes, 
hutukhtus  and  lamas  and  others  resident  at  Urga,  hereby 
jointly  and  severally  submit  the  following  petition  for  the  es- 
teemed perusal  of  His  Excellency  the  President  of  the  Republic 
of  China: — 

"Outer  Mongolia  has  been  a  dependency  of  China  since  the 
reign  of  the  Emperor  Kang  Hsi,  remaining  loyal  for  over  two 
hundred  years,  the  entire  population,  from  princes  and  dukes 
down  to  the  common  people  having  enjoyed  the  blessings  of 
peace.  During  the  reign  of  the  Emperor  Tao  Kwang  changes 
in  the  established  institutions,  which  were  opposed  to  Mon- 
golian sentiment,  caused  dissatisfaction  which  was  aggravated 
by  the  corruption  of  the  administration  during  the  last  days 


xxii  INTRODUCTION 

of  the  Manchu  Dynasty.  Taking  advantage  of  this  Mongolian 
dissatisfaction,  foreigners  instigated  and  assisted  the  inde- 
pendence movement.  Upon  the  Kiakhta  Convention  being 
signed  the  autonomy  of  Outer  Mongolia  was  held  a  fait  ac- 
compli, China  retaining  an  empty  suzerainty  while  the  officials 
and  people  of  Outer  Mongolia  lost  many  of  their  old  rights 
and  privileges.  Since  the  establishment  of  this  autonomous 
government  no  progress  whatsoever  has  been  chronicled,  the 
affairs  of  government  being  indeed  plunged  in  a  state  of  chaos, 
causing  deep  pessimism. 

**Lately,  chaotic  conditions  have  also  reigned  supreme  in 
Russia,  reports  of  revolutionary  elements  threatening  our 
frontiers  having  been  frequently  received.  Moreover,  since  the 
Russians  have  no  united  government  it  is  only  natural  that 
they  are  powerless  to  carry  out  the  provisions  of  the  treaties, 
and  now  that  they  have  no  control  over  their  subjects  the 
Buriat  tribes  have  constantly  conspired  and  cooperated  with 
bandits,  and  repeatedly  sent  delegates  to  Urga  urging  our  Gov- 
ernment to  join  with  them  and  form  a  Pan-Mongolian  nation. 
That  this  propaganda  work,  so  varied  and  so  persistent,  which 
aims  at  usurping  Chinese  suzerainty  and  undermining  the 
autonomy  of  Outer  Mongolia,  does  more  harm  than  good  to 
Outer  Mongolia,  our  Government  is  well  aware.  The  Buriats, 
with  their  bandit  Allies,  now  considering  us  unwilling  to 
espouse  their  cause,  contemplate  dispatching  troops  to  violate 
our  frontiers  and  to  compel  our  submission.  Furthermore, 
forces  from  the  so-called  White  Army  have  forcibly  occupied 
Tanu  Ulianghai,  an  old  possession  of  Outer  Mongolia,  and  at- 
tacked both  Chinese  and  Mongolian  troops,  this  being  followed 
by  the  entry  of  the  Red  Army,  thus  making  the  situation  im- 
possible. 

"Now  that  both  our  internal  and  external  affairs  have 
reached  such  a  climax,  we,  the  members  of  the  Government, 
in  view  of  the  present  situation,  have  assembled  all  the  princes, 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

dukes,  lamas  and  others  and  have  held  frequent  meetings  to 
discuss  the  question  of  our  future  welfare.  Those  present  have 
been  unanimously  of  the  opinion  that  the  old  bonds  of  friend- 
ship having  been  restored  our  autonomy  should  be  canceled, 
since  Chinese  and  Mongolians  are  filled  with  a  common  purpose 
and  ideal. 

"The  result  of  our  decision  has  been  duly  reported  to  His 
Holiness  the  Bogdo  Jetsun  Dampa  Hutukhtu  Khan  and  has 
received  his  approval  and  support.  Such  being  the  position 
we  now  unanimously  petition  His  Excellency  the  President 
that  the  old  order  of  affairs  be  restored." 
(Signed) 

"Premier  and  Acting  Minister  of  the  Interior,  Prince  Lama 
Batma  Torgoo. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Tarkhan  Puntzuk  Cheilin. 

"Vice-Minister,    Great    Lama    of    Beliktu,  Prince    Puntzuk 
Torgoo. 

"Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs,  Duke  Cheilin  Torgoo. 

"Vice-Minister,  Dalai  Prince  Cheitantnun  Lomour. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Ochi,  Kaotzuktanba. 

"Minister  of  War,  Prince  of  Eltoni  Jamuyen  Torgoo. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Eltoni  Selunto  Chihloh. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Elteni  Punktzu  Laptan. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Itkemur  Chitu  Wachir. 

"Minister  of  Finance,  Prince  Lama  Loobitsan  Paletan. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  Torgee  Cheilin. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Suchuketu  Tehmutgu  Kejwan. 

"Minister  of  Justice,  Dalai  of  Chiechenkhan  Wananin. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Daichinchihlun  Chackehbatehorhu. 

"Vice-Minister,  Prince  of  Cholikota  Lama  Dashtunyupu." 

Naturally,  the  President  of  China  graciously  consented  to 
allow  the  prodigal  to  return  and  "killed  the  fatted  calf"  by 
conferring  high  honors  and  titles  upon  the  Hutukhtu.    More- 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION 

over,  he  appointed  the  Living  Buddha's  gaod  friend  (?)  "Little 
Hsu*'  to  convey  them  to  him. 

Thus,  Mongolia  again  has  become  a  part  of  China.  Who 
knows  what  the  future  has  in  store  for  her?  But  events  are 
moving  rapidly  and  by  the  time  this  book  is  published  the  cur- 
tain may  have  risen  upon  a  new  act  of  Mongolia's  tragedy. 


ACROSS 
MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

CHAPTER  I 

ENTERING  THE  LAND  OF  MYSTERY 

Careering  madly  in  a  motor  car  behind  a  herd  of  an- 
telope fleeing  like  wind-blown  ribbons  across  a  desert 
which  isn't  a  desert,  past  caravans  of  camels  led  by 
picturesque  Mongol  horsemen,  the  Twentieth  Century 
suddenly  and  violently  interjected  into  the  Middle  Ages, 
should  be  contrast  and  paradox  enough  for  even  the 
most  blase  sportsman.  I  am  a  naturalist  who  has  wan- 
dered into  many  of  the  far  corners  of  the  earth.  I  have 
seen  strange  men  and  things,  but  what  I  saw  on  the  great 
Mongolian  plateau  fairly  took  my  breath  away  and  left 
me  dazed,  utterly  unable  to  adjust  my  mental  per- 
spective. 

•  When  leaving  Peking  in  late  August,  1918,  to  cross 
the  Gobi  Desert  in  Mongolia,  I  knew  that  I  was  to  go 
by  motor  car.  But  somehow  the  very  names  "Mon- 
golia" and  "Gobi  Desert"  brought  such  a  vivid  picture 
of  the  days  of  Kublai  Khan  and  ancient  Cathay  that  my 
clouded  mind  refused  to  admit  the  thought  of  automo- 
biles.   It  was  enough  that  I  was  going  to  the  land  of 

which  I  had  so  often  dreamed. 

1 


2     ;         Across  MONGOLIAN  plains 

' '  Niit  trhn  m  -tb^  railway,  when  I  was  being  borne 
toward  Kalgan  and  saw  lines  of  laden  camels  plodding 
silently  along  the  paved  road  beside  the  train,  or  when 
we  puffed  slowly  through  the  famous  Nankou  Pass  and 
I  saw  that  wonder  of  the  world,  the  Great  Wall, 
winding  like  a  gray  serpent  over  ridge  after  ridge  of  the 
mountains,  was  my  dream-picture  of  mysterious  Mon- 
golia dispelled.  I  had  seen  all  this  before,  and  had  ac- 
cepted it  as  one  accepts  the  motor  cars  beside  the  splen- 
did walls  of  old  Peking.  It  was  too  near,  and  the 
railroad  had  made  it  commonplace. 

But  Mongolia!  That  was  different.  One  could  not 
go  there  in  a  roaring  train.  I  had  beside  me  the  same 
old  rifle  and  sleeping  bag  that  had  been  carried  across 
the  mountains  of  far  Yun-nan,  along  the  Tibetan  fron- 
tier, and  through  the  fever-stricken  jungles  of  Burma. 
Somehow,  these  companions  of  forest  and  mountain 
trails,  and  my  reception  at  Kalgan  by  two  khaki-clad 
young  men,  each  with  a  belt  of  cartridges  and  a  six- 
shooter  strapped  about  his  waist,  did  much  to  keep  me 
in  a  blissful  state  of  unpreparedness  for  the  destruction 
of  my  dream-castles. 

That  night  as  we  sat  in  Mr.  Charles  Coltman's  home, 
with  his  charming  wife,  a  real  woman  of  the  great  out- 
doors, presiding  at  the  dinner  table,  the  talk  was  all 
of  shooting,  horses,  and  the  vast,  lone  spaces  of  the  Gobi 
Desert — ^but  not  much  of  motor  cars.  Perhaps  they 
vaguely  realized  that  I  was  still  asleep  in  an  unreal 
world  and  knew  that  the  awakening  would  come  all 
too  soon. 


ENTERING  THE  LAND  OF  MYSTERY  9 

Yet  I  was  dining  that  night  with  one  of  the  men  who 
had  destroyed  the  mystery  of  Mongolia.  In  1916,  Colt- 
man  and  his  former  partner,  Oscar  Mamen,  had  driven 
across  the  plains  to  Urga,  the  historic  capital  of  Mon- 
golia. But  most  unromantic  and  incongruous,  most  dis- 
heartening to  a  dreamer  of  Oriental  dreams,  was  what 
I  learned  a  few  days  later  when  the  awakening  had 
really  come — that  among  the  first  cars  ever  to  cross 
the  desert  was  one  purchased  by  the  Hutukhtu,  the 
Living  Buddha,  the  God  of  all  the  Mongols. 

When  the  Hutukhtu  learned  of  the  first  motor  car 
in  Mongolia  he  forthwith  demanded  one  for  him- 
self. So  his  automobile  was  brought  safely  through 
the  rocky  pass  at  Kalgan  and  across  the  seven  hundred 
miles  of  plain  to  Urga  by  way  of  the  same  old  caravan 
trail  over  which,  centuries  ago,  Genghis  Khan  had  sent 
his  wild  Mongol  raiders  to  conquer  China. 

We  arose  long  before  daylight  on  the  morning  of 
August  29.  In  the  courtyard  lanterns  flashed  and  dis- 
appeared like  giant  fireflies  as  the  mafus  (muleteers) 
packed  the  baggage  and  saddled  the  ponies.  The  cars 
had  been  left  on  the  plateau  at  a  mission  station  called 
Hei-ma-hou  to  avoid  the  rough  going  in  the  pass,  and 
we  were  to  ride  there  on  horseback  while  the  food  and 
bed-rolls  went  by  cart.  There  were  five  of  us  in  the 
party — ^Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coltman,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lucander, 
and  myself.  I  was  on  a  reconnoissance  and  Mr.  Colt- 
man's  object  was  to  visit  his  trading  station  in  Urga, 
where  the  Lucanders  were  to  remain  for  the  winter. 

The  sun  was  an  hour  high  when  we  clattered  over  the 


4.  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

slippery  paving  stones  to  the  north  gate  of  the  city. 
Kalgan  is  built  hard  against  the  Great  Wall  of  China — 
the  first  line  of  defense,  the  outermost  rampart  in  the 
colossal  structure  which  for  so  many  centuries  protected 
China  from  Tartar  invasion.  Beyond  it  there  was  noth- 
ing between  us  and  the  great  plateau. 

After  our  passports  had  been  examined  we  rode 
through  the  gloomy  chasm-like  gate,  tuitied  sharply  to 
the  left,  and  found  ourselves  standing  on  the  edge  of  a 
half -dry  river  bed.  Below  us  stretched  line  after  line  of 
double-humped  camels,  some  crowded  in  yellow-brown 
masses  which  seemed  all  heads  and  curving  necks,  and 
some  kneeling  quietly  on  the  sand.  From  around  a 
shoulder  of  rock  came  other  camels,  hundreds  of  them, 
treading  slowly  and  sedately,  nose  to  tail,  toward  the 
gate  in  the  Great  Wall.  They  had  come  from  the  far 
country  whither  we  were  bound.  To  me  there  is  some- 
thing fascinating  about  a  camel.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
he  seems  to  typify  the  great  waste  spaces  which  I  love, 
that  I  never  tire  of  watching  him  swing  silently,  and 
seemingly  with  resistless  power,  across  the  desert. 

Our  way  to  Hei-ma-hou  led  up  the  dry  river  bed,  with 
the  Great  Wall  on  the  left  stretching  its  serpentine 
length  across  the  hills,  and  on  the  right  picturesque  cliffs 
two  hundred  feet  in  height.  At  their  bases  nestle  mud- 
roofed  cottages  and  Chinese  inns,  but  farther  up  the 
river  the  low  hills  are  all  of  loess — ^brown,  wind-blown 
dust,  packed  hard,  which  can  be  cut  like  cheese.  De- 
serted though  they  seem  from  a  distance,  they  really 
teem  with  human  life.   Whole  villages  are  half  dug,  half 


ENTERING  THE  LAND  OF  MYSTERY  5 

built,  into  the  hillsides,  but  are  well-nigh  invisible,  for 
every  wall  and  roof  is  of  the  same  brown  earth. 

Ten  miles  or  so  from  Kalgan  we  began  on  foot  the 
long  climb  up  the  pass  which  gives  entrance  to  the  great 
plateau.  I  kept  my  eyes  steadily  on  the  pony's  heels 
until  we  reached  a  broad,  flat  terrace  halfway  up  the 
pass.  Then  I  swung  about  that  I  might  have,  all  at 
once,  the  view  which  lay  below  us.  It  justified  my  great- 
est hopes,  for  miles  and  miles  of  rolling  hills  stretched 
away  to  where  the  far  horizon  met  the  Shansi  Moun- 
tains. 

It  was  a  desolate  country  which  I  saw,  for  every  wave 
in  this  vast  land-sea  was  cut  and  slashed  by  the  knives 
of  wind  and  frost  and  rain,  and  lay  in  a  chaotic  mass  of 
gaping  wounds — canons,  ravines,  and  gullies,  painted 
in  rainbow  colors,  crossing  and  cutting  one  another  at 
fantastic  angles  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

When,  a  few  moments  later,  we  reached  the  very  sum- 
mit of  the  pass,  I  felt  that  no  spot  I  had  ever  visited  sat- 
isfied my  preconceived  conceptions  quite  so  thoroughly. 
Behind  and  below  us  lay  that  stupendous  relief  map  of 
ravines  and  gorges;  in  front  was  a  limitless  stretch  of 
undulating  plain.  I  knew  then  that  I  really  stood  upon 
the  edge  of  the  greatest  plateau  in  all  the  world  and 
that  it  could  be  only  Mongolia. 

We  had  tiffin  at  a  tiny  Chinese  inn  beside  the  road, 
and  trotted  on  toward  Hei-ma-hou  between  waving 
fields  of  wheat,  buckwheat,  millet,  and  oats — oats  as 
thick  and  *'meaty"  as  any  horse  could  wish  to  eat. 

After  tiffin  Coltman  and  Lucander  rode  rapidly  ahead 


6  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

while  I  trotted  my  pony  along  more  slowly  in  the  rear. 
It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock,  and  the  trees  about  the  mis- 
sion station  had  been  visible  for  half  an  hour.  I  was 
enjoying  a  gorgeous  sunset  which  splashed  the  western 
sky  with  gold  and  red,  and  lazily  watching  the  black 
silhouettes  of  a  camel  caravan  swinging  along  the  sum- 
mit of  a  ridge  a  mile  away.  On  the  road  beside  me  a 
train  of  laden  mules  and  bullock-carts  rested  for  a  mo- 
ment— ^the  drivers  half  asleep.  Over  all  the  plain  there 
lay  the  peace  of  a  perfect  autumn  evening. 
'  Suddenly,  from  behind  a  little  rise,  I  heard  the  whir 
of  a  motor  engine  and  the  raucous  voice  of  a  Klaxon 
horn.  Before  I  realized  what  it  meant,  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  a  mass  of  plunging,  snorting  animals,  shouting 
carters,  and  kicking  mules.  In  a  moment  the  caravan 
scattered  wildly  across  the  plain  and  the  road  was  clear 
save  for  the  author  of  the  turmoil — a  black  automobile. 

I  wish  I  could  make  those  who  spend  their  lives  within 
a  city  know  how  strange  and  out  of  place  that  motor 
seemed,  alone  there  upon  the  open  plain  on  the  borders 
of  Mongolia.  Imagine  a  camel  or  an  elephant  with  all 
its  Oriental  trappings  suddenly  appearing  on  Fifth 
Avenue!  You  would  think  at  once  that  it  had  escaped 
from  a  circus  or  a  zoo  and  would  be  mainly  curious  as 
to  what  the  traffic  policeman  would  do  when  it  did  not 
obey  his  signals. 

But  all  the  incongruity  and  the  fact  that  the  automo- 
bile was  a  glaring  anachronism  did  not  prevent  my 
abandoning  my  horse  to  the  mafu  and  stretching  out 
comfortably  on  the  cushions  of  the  rear  seat.    There  I 


ENTERING  THE  LAND  OF  MYSTERY  7 

had  nothing  to  do  but  collect  the  remains  of  my  shat- 
tered dream-castles  as  we  bounced  over  the  ruts  and 
stones.  It  was  a  rude  awakening,  and  I  felt  half 
ashamed  to  admit  to  myself  as  the  miles  sped  by  that 
the  springy  seat  was  more  comfortable  than  the  saddle 
on  my  Mongol  pony. 

But  that  night  when  I  strolled  about  the  mission 
courtyard,  under  the  spell  of  the  starry,  desert  sky,  I 
drifted  back  again  in  thought  to  the  glorious  days  of 
Kublai  Khan.  My  heart  was  hot  with  resentment  that 
this  thing  had  come.  I  realized  then  that,  for  better  or 
for  worse,  the  sanctity  of  the  desert  was  gone  forever. 
Camels  will  still  plod  their  silent  way  across  the  age-old 
plains,  but  the  mystery  is  lost.  The  secrets  which  were 
yielded  up  to  but  a  chosen  few  are  open  now  to  all,  and 
the  world  and  his  wife  will  speed  their  noisy  course  across 
the  miles  of  roUing  prairie,  hearyig  nothing,  feeling 
nothing,  knowing  nothing  of  that  resistless  desert  charm 
which  led  men  out  into  the  Great  Unknown. 

At  daylight  we  packed  the  cars.  Bed-rolls  and  cans 
of  gasoline  were  tied  on  the  running  boards  and  every 
corner  was  filled  with  food.  Our  rifles  were  ready  for 
use,  however,  for  Coltman  had  promised  a  kind  of  shoot- 
ing such  as  I  had  never  seen  before.  The  stories  he  told 
of  wild  rides  in  the  car  after  strings  of  antelope  which 
traveled  at  fifty  or  sixty  miles  an  hour  had  left  me  mildly 
skeptical.  But  then,  you  know,  I  had  never  seen  a  Mon- 
golian antelope  run. 

For  twenty  or  thirty  miles  after  leaving  Hei-ma-hou 
we  bounced  along  over  a  road  which  would  have  been 


8  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

splendid  except  for  the  deep  ruts  cut  by  mule-  and  ox- 
carts. These  carts  are  the  despair  of  any  one  who  hopes 
some  time  to  see  good  roads  in  China.  The  spike- 
studded  wheels  cut  into  the  hardest  ground  and  leave  a 
chaos  of  ridges  and  chasms  which  grows  worse  with 
every  year. 

We  were  seldom  out  of  sight  of  mud-walled  huts  or 
tiny  Chinese  villages,  and  Chinese  peddlers  passed  our 
cars,  carrying  baskets  of  fruit  or  trinkets  for  the  women. 
Chinese  farmers  stopped  to  gaze  at  us  as  we  bounded 
over  the  ruts — ^in  fact  it  was  all  Chinese,  although  we 
were  really  in  Mongolia.  I  was  very  eager  to  see  Mon- 
gols, to  register  first  impressions  of  a  people  of  whom 
I  had  dreamed  so  much ;  but  the  blue-clad  Chinaman  was 
ubiquitous. 

For  seventy  miles  from  Kalgan  it  was  all  the  same — 
Chinese  everywhere.  The  Great  Wall  was  built  to  keep 
the  Mongols  out,  and  by  the  same  token  it  should  have 
kept  the  Chinese  in.  But  the  rolling,  grassy  sea  of  the 
vast  plateau  was  too  strong  a  temptation  for  the  Chinese 
farmer.  Encouraged  by  his  own  government,  which 
knows  the  value  of  just  such  peaceful  penetration,  he 
pushes  forward  the  line  of  cultivation  a  dozen  miles  or 
so  every  year.  As  a  result  the  grassy  hills  have  given 
place  to  fields  of  wheat,  oats,  millet,  buckwheat,  and 
potatoes. 

The  Mongol,  above  all  things,  is  not  a  farmer;  pos- 
sibly because,  many  years  ago,  the  Manchus  forbade  him 
to  till  the  soil.  Moreover,  on  the  ground  he  is  as  awk- 
ward as  a  duck  out  of  water  and  he  is  never  comfortable. 


ENTERING  THE  LAND  OF  MYSTERY  9 

The  back  of  a  pony  is  his  real  home,  and  he  will  do  won- 
derfully well  any  work  which  keeps  him  in  the  saddle. 
As  Mr.  F.  A,  Larsen  in  Urga  once  said,  "A  Mongol 
would  make  a  splendid  cook  if  you  could  give  him  a 
horse  to  ride  about  on  in  the  kitchen."  So  he  leaves  to 
the  plodding  Chinaman  the  cultivation  of  his  boundless 
plains,  while  he  herds  his  fat-tailed  sheep  and  goats  and 
cattle. 

About  two  hours  after  leaving  the  mission  station  we 
passed  the  limit  of  cultivation  and  were  riding  toward 
the  Tabool  hills.  There  Mr.  Larsen,  the  best  known 
foreigner  in  all  Mongolia,  has  a  home,  and  as  we 
swung  past  the  trail  which  leads  to  his  house  we  saw  one 
of  his  great  herds  of  horses  grazing  in  the  distance. 

All  the  land  in  this  region  has  long,  rich  grass  in 
summer,  and  water  is  by  no  means  scarce.  There  are 
frequent  wells  and  streams  along  the  road,  and  in  the 
distance  we  often  caught  a  glint  of  silver  from  the  sur- 
face of  a  pond  or  lake.  Flocks  of  goats  and  fat-tailed 
sheep  drifted  up  the  valley,  and  now  and  then  a  herd 
of  cattle  massed  themselves  in  moving  patches  on  the 
hillsides.  But  they  are  only  a  fraction  of  the  numbers 
which  this  land  could  easily  support. 

Not  far  from  Tabool  is  a  Mongol  village.  I  jumped 
out  of  the  car  to  take  a  photograph  but  scrambled  in 
again  almost  as  quickly,  for  as  soon  as  the  motor  had 
stopped  a  dozen  dogs  dashed  from  the  houses  snarling 
and  barking  like  a  pack  of  wolves.  They  are  huge 
brutes,  these  Mongol  dogs,  and  as  fierce  as  they  are  big. 
Every  family  and  every  caravan  owns  one  or  more,  and 


10  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

we  learned  very  soon  never  to  approach  a  native  en- 
campment on  foot. 

The  village  was  as  unlike  a  Chinese  settlement  as  it 
well  could  be,  for  instead  of  closely  packed  mud  houses 
there  were  circular,  latticed  frameworks  covered  with 
felt  and  cone-shaped  in  the  upper  half.  The  yurt,  as  it 
is  called,  is  perfectly  adapted  to  the  Mongols  and  their 
life.  In  the  winter  a  stove  is  placed  in  the  center,  and 
the  house  is  dry  and  warm.  In  the  summer  the  felt 
covering  is  sometimes  replaced  by  canvas  which  can  be 
lifted  on  any  side  to  allow  free  passage  of  air.  When 
it  is  time  for  the  semiannual  migration  to  new  grazing 
grounds  the  yurt  can  be  quickly  dismantled,  the  frame- 
work collapsed,  and  the  house  packed  on  camels  or  carts. 

The  Mongols  of  the  village  were  rather  disappoint- 
ing, for  many  of  them  show  a  strong  element  of  Chinese 
blood.  This  seems  to  have  developed  an  unfortunate 
combination  of  the  worst  characteristics  of  both  races. 
Even  where  there  is  no  real  mixture,  their  contact  with 
the  Chinese  has  been  demoralizing,  and  they  will  rob  and 
steal  at  every  opportunity.  The  headdresses  of  the 
southern  women  are  by  no  means  as  elaborate  as  those 
in  the  north. 

When  the  hills  of  Tabool  had  begun  to  sink  on  the 
horizon  behind  us,  we  entered  upon  a  vast  rolling  plain, 
where  there  was  but  little  water  and  not  a  sign  of  human 
life.  It  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  the  prairies  of 
Nebraska  or  Dakota,  and  amid  the  short  grass  larkspur 
and  purple  thistles  glowed  in  the  sunlight  like  tongues 
of  flame. 


ENTERING  THE  LAND  OF  MYSTERY  11 

I 

There  was  no  lack  of  birds.    In  the  ponds  which  we 

passed  earlier  in  the  day  we  saw  hundreds  of  mallard 

ducks  and  teal.    The  car  often  frightened  golden  plover 

from  their  dust  baths  in  the  road,  and  crested  lapwings 

flashed  across  the  prairie  like  sudden  storms  of  autumn 

leaves.    Huge,  golden  eagles  and  enormous  ravens  made 

tempting  targets  on  the  telegraph  poles,  and  in  the 

morning  before  we  left  the  cultivated  area  we  saw 

demoiselle  cranes  in  thousands. 

In  this  land  where  wood  is  absent  and  everything 
that  will  make  a  fire  is  of  value,  I  wondered  how  it  hap- 
pened that  the  telegraph  poles  remained  untouched,  for 
every  one  was  smooth  and  round  without  a  splinter  gone. 
The  method  of  protection  is  simple  and  entirely  Orien- 
tal. When  the  line  was  first  erected,  the  Mongolian 
government  stated  in  an  edict  that  any  man  who  touched 
a  pole  with  knife  or  ax  would  lose  his  head.  Even  on 
the  plains  the  enforcement  of  such  a  law  is  not  so  diffi- 
cult as  it  might  seem,  and  after  a  few  heads  had  been 
taken  by  way  of  example  the  safety  of  the  line  was  as- 
sured. 

Our  camp  the  first  night  was  on  a  hill  slope  about  one 
hundred  miles  from  Hei-ma-hou.  As  soon  as  the  cars 
had  stopped,  one  man  was  left  to  untie  the  sleeping  bags 
while  the  rest  of  us  scattered  over  the  plain  to  hunt  ma- 
terial for  a  fire.  Argul  (dried  dung)  forms  the  only 
desert  fuel  and,  although  it  does  not  blaze  like  wood,  it 
will  "boil  a  pot"  almost  as  quickly  as  charcoal.  I  was 
elected  to  be  the  cook — a  position  with  distinct  advan- 


1«  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

tages,  for  in  the  freezing  cold  of  early  morning  I  could 
linger  about  the  fire  with  a  good  excuse. 

It  was  a  perfect  autumn  night.  Every  star  in  the 
world  of  space  seemed  to  have  been  crowded  into  our 
own  particular  expanse  of  sky,  and  each  one  glowed  like 
a  tiny  lantern.  When  I  had  found  a  patch  of  sand  and 
had  dug  a  trench  for  my  hip  and  shoulder,  I  crawled 
into  the  sleeping  bag  and  lay  for  half  an  hour  looking 
up  at  the  bespangled  canopy  above  my  head.  Again 
the  magic  of  the  desert  night  was  in  my  blood,  and  I 
blessed  the  fate  which  had  carried  me  away  from  the 
roar  and  rush  of  New  York  with  its  hurrying  crowds. 
But  I  felt  a  pang  of  envy  when,  far  away  in  the  dis- 
tance, there  came  the  mellow  notes  of  a  camel-bell. 
Dong  J  dong,  dong  it  sounded,  clear  and  sweet  as  cathe- 
dral chimes.  With  surging  blood  I  listened  until  I 
caught  the  measured  tread  of  padded  feet,  and  saw  the 
black  silhouettes  of  rounded  bodies  and  curving  necks. 
Oh,  to  be  with  them,  to  travel  as  Marco  Polo  traveled, 
and  to  learn  to  know  the  heart  of  the  desert  in  the  long 
night  marches!  Before  I  closed  my  eyes  that  night  I 
vowed  that  when  the  war  was  done  and  I  was  free  to 
travel  where  I  willed,  I  would  come  again  to  the  desert 
as  the  great  Venetian  came. 


CHAPTER  II 

SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT 

The  next  morning,  ten  miles  from  camp,  we  passed 
a  party  of  Russians  en  route  to  Kalgan.  They  were 
sitting  disconsolately  beside  two  huge  cars,  patching 
tires  and  tightening  bolts.  Their  way  had  been  marked 
by  a  succession  of  motor  troubles  and  they  were  almost 
discouraged.  Woe  to  the  men  who  venture  into  the 
desert  with  an  untried  car  and  without  a  skilled  me- 
chanic! There  are  no  garages  just  around  the  corner — 
and  there  are  no  corners.  Lucander's  Chinese  boy  ex- 
pressed it  with  laconic  completeness  when  some  one 
asked  him  how  he  liked  the  country. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "there's  plenty  of  roorri  here." 
A  short  distance  farther  on  we  found  the  caravan 
which  had  passed  us  early  in  the  night.  They  were 
camped  beside  a  well  and  the  thirsty  camels  were  gorg- 
ing themselves  with  water.  Except  for  these  wells,  the 
march  across  the  desert  would  be  impossible.  They  are 
four  or  five  feet  wide,  walled  with  timbers,  and  partly 
roofed.  In  some  the  water  is  rather  brackish  but  always 
cool,  for  it  is  seldom  less  than  ten  feet  below  the  surface. 
It  is  useless  to  speculate  as  to  who  dug  the  wells  or 
when,  for  this  trail  has  been  used  for  centuries.    In  some 

13 


k 


14  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

regions  they  are  fifty  or  even  sixty  miles  apart,  but  usu- 
ally less  than  that. 

The  camel  caravans  travel  mostly  at  night.  For  all 
his  size  and  apparent  strength,  a  camel  is  a  delicate  ani- 
mal and  needs  careful  handling.  He  cannot  stand  the 
heat  of  the  midday  sun  and  he  will  not  graze  at  night. 
So  the  Gobi  caravans  start  about  three  or  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  and  march  until  one  or  two  the  next 
morjning.  Then  the  men  pitch  a  light  tent  and  the  cam- 
els sleep  or  wander  over  the  plain. 

At  noon  on  the  second  day  we  reached  Panj-kiang, 
the  first  telegraph  station  on  the  line.  Its  single  mud 
house  was  visible  miles  away  and  we  were  glad  to  see  it, 
for  our  gasoline  was  getting  low.  Coltman  had  sent  a 
plentiful  supply  by  caravan  to  await  us  here,  and  every 
available  inch  of  space  was  filled  with  cans,  for  we  were 
only  one-quarter  of  the  way  to  Urga. 

Not  far  beyond  Panj-kiang,  a  lama  monastery  has 
been  built  beside  the  road.  Its  white-walled  temple 
bordered  with  red  and  the  compound  enclosing  the  liv- 
ing quarters  of  the  lamas  show  with  startling  distinctness 
on  the  open  plain.  We  stopped  for  water  at  a  well  a 
few  hundred  yards  away,  and  in  five  minutes  the  cars 
were  surrounded  by  a  picturesque  group  of  lamas  who 
streamed  across  the  plain  on  foot  and  on  horseback,  their 
yellow  and  red  robes  flaming  in  the  sun.  They  were 
amiable  enough — in  fact,  too  friendly — and  their  curi- 
osity was  hardly  welcome,  for  we  found  one  of  them  test- 
ing his  knife  on  the  tires  and  another  about  to  punch 


SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT       15 

a  hole  in  one  of  the  gasoline  cans ;  he  hoped  it  held  some- 
thing to  drink  that  was  better  than  water. 

Thus  far  the  trail  had  not  been  bad,  as  roads  go  in 
the  Gobi,  but  I  was  assured  that  the  next  hundred  miles 
would  be  a  different  story,  for  we  were  about  to  enter 
the  most  arid  part  of  the  desert  between  Kalgan  and 
Urga.  We  were  prepared  for  the  only  real  work  of  the 
trip,  however,  by  a  taste  of  the  exciting  shooting  which 
Coltman  had  promised  me. 

I  had  been  told  that  we  should  see  antelope  in  thou- 
sands, but  all  day  I  had  vainly  searched  the  plains  for 
a  sign  of  game.  Ten  miles  from  Panj-kiang  we  were 
rolling  comfortably  along  on  a  stretch  of  good  road  when 
Mrs.  Coltman,  whose  eyes  are  as  keen  as  those  of  a  hawk, 
excitedly  pointed  to  a  knoll  on  the  right,  not  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  trail.  At  first  I  saw  nothing  but  yellow 
grass;  then  the  whole  hillside  seemed  to  be  in  motion. 
A  moment  later  I  began  to  distinguish  heads  and  legs 
and  realized  that  I  was  looking  at  an  enormous  herd  of 
antelope,  closely  packed  together,  restlessly  watching 
us. 

Our  rifles  were  out  in  an  instant  and  Coltman  opened 
the  throttle.  The  antelope  were  five  or  six  hundred 
yards  away,  and  as  the  car  leaped  forward  they  ranged 
themselves  in  single  file  and  strung  out  across  the  plain. 
We  left  the  road  at  once  and  headed  diagonally  toward 
them.  For  some  strange  reason,  when  a  horse  or  car 
runs  parallel  with  a  herd  of  antelope,  the  animals  will 
swing  in  a  complete  semicircle  and  cross  in  front  of  the 
pursuer.     This  is  also  true  of  some  African  species. 


16  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Whether  they  think  they  are  being  cut  off  from  some 
more  desirable  means  of  escape  I  cannot  say,  but  the 
fact  remains  that  with  the  open  plain  on  every  side  they 
always  try  to  **cross  your  bows." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  of  those  magnificent  ani- 
mals streaming  across  the  desert!  There  were  at  least 
a  thousand  of  them,  and  their  yellow  bodies  seemed 
fairly  to  skim  the  earth.  I  was  shouting  in  excitement, 
but  Coltman  said: 

"They're  not  running  yet.  Wait  till  we  begin  to 
shoot." 

I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes  when  I  saw  the  speed- 
ometer trembling  at  thirty-five  miles,  for  we  were  mak- 
ing a  poor  showing  with  the  antelope.  But  then  the 
fatal  attraction  began  to  assert  itself  and  the  long  col- 
umn bent  gradually  in  our  direction.  Coltman  widened 
the  arc  of  the  circle  and  held  the  throttle  up  as  far  as  it 
would  go.  Our  speed  increased  to  forty  miles  and  the 
car  began  to  gain  because  the  antelope  were  running 
almost  across  our  course. 

They  were  about  two  hundred  yards  away  when  Colt- 
man shut  off  the  gas  and  jammed  both  brakes,  but  be- 
fore the  car  had  stopped  they  had  gained  another 
hundred.  I  leaped  over  a  pile  of  bedding  and  came  into 
action  with  the  .250  Savage  high-power  as  soon  as  my 
feet  were  on  the  ground.  Coltman's  .30  Mauser  was 
already  spitting  fire  from  the  front  seat  across  the  wind- 
shield, and  at  his  second  shot  an  antelope  dropped  like 
lead.  My  first  two  bullets  struck  the  dirt  far  behind  the 
rearmost  animal,  but  the  third  caught  a  full-grown  fe- 


SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT       17 

male  in  the  side  and  she  plunged  forward  into  the  grass. 

I  realized  then  what  Coltman  meant  when  he  said  that 
the  antelope  had  not  begun  to  run.  At  the  first  shot 
every  animal  in  the  herd  seemed  to  flatten  itself  and  set- 
tle to  its  work.  They  did  not  run — they  simply  flew 
across  the  ground,  their  legs  showing  only  as  a  blur. 
The  one  I  killed  was  four  hundred  yards  away,  and  I 
held  four  feet  ahead  when  I  pulled  the  trigger.  They 
could  not  have  been  traveling  less  than  fifty-five  or  sixty 
miles  an  hour,  for  they  were  running  in  a  semicircle 
about  the  car  while  we  were  moving  at  forty  miles  in  a 
straight  line. 

Those  are  the  facts  in  the  case.  I  can  see  my  readers 
raise  their  brows  incredulously,  for  that  is  exactly  what 
I  would  have  done  before  this  demonstration.  Well, 
there  is  one  way  to  prove  it  and  that  is  to  come  and  try 
it  for  yourselves.  Moreover,  I  can  see  some  sportsmen 
smile  for  another  reason.  I  mentioned  that  the  antelope 
I  killed  was  four  hundred  yards  away.  I  know  how  far 
it  was,  for  I  paced  it  off.  I  may  say,  in  passing,  that  I 
had  never  before  killed  a  running  animal  at  that  range. 
Ninety  per  cent  of  my  shooting  had  been  well  within 
one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  but  in  Mongolia  conditions 
are  most  extraordinary. 

In  the  brilliant  atmosphere  an  antelope  at  four  hun- 
dred yards  appears  as  large  as  it  would  at  one  hundred 
in  most  other  parts  of  the  world;  and  on  the  flat  plains, 
where  there  is  not  a  bush  or  a  shrub  to  obscure  the  view, 
a  tiny  stone  stands  out  like  a  golf  ball  on  the  putting 
green.   Because  of  these  conditions  there  is  strong  temp- 


18  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

tation  to  shoot  at  impossible  ranges  and  to  keep  on  shoot- 
ing when  the  game  is  beyond  anything  except  a  lucky 
chance.  Therefore,  if  any  of  you  go  to  Mongolia  to 
hunt  antelope  take  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  when  you 
return  you  will  never  tell  how  many  cartridges  you  used. 
Our  antelope  were  tied  on  the  running  board  of  the  car 
and  we  went  back  to  the  road  where  Lucander  was  wait- 
ing. Half  the  herd  had  crossed  in  front  of  him,  but  he 
had  failed  to  bring  down  an  animal. 

When  the  excitement  was  over  I  began  to  understand 
the  significance  of  what  we  had  seen.  It  was  slowly 
borne  in  upon  me  that  our  car  had  been  going,  by  the 
speedometer,  at  forty  miles  an  hour  and  that  the  ante- 
lope were  actuall'y  heating  us.  It  was  an  amazing  dis- 
covery, for  I  had  never  dreamed  that  any  living  animal 
could  run  so  fast.  It  was  a  discovery,  too,  which  would 
have  important  results,  for  Professor  Henry  Fairfield 
Osborn,  president  of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  - 
History,  even  then  was  carrying  on  investigations  as  to 
the  relation  of  speed  to  limb  structure  in  various  groups 
of  animals.  I  determined,  with  Mr.  Coltman's  help,  to 
get  some  real  facts  in  the  case — data  upon  which  we 
could  rely. 

There  was  an  opportunity  only  to  begin  the  study  on 
the  first  trip,  but  we  carried  it  further  the  following 
year.  Time  after  time,  as  we  tore  madly  after  antelope, 
singly  or  in  herds,  I  kept  my  eyes  upon  the  speedometer, 
and  I  feel  confident  that  our  observations  can  be  relied 
upon.  We  demonstrated  beyond  a  doubt  that  the  Mon- 
golian antelope  can  reach  a  speed  of  from  fifty-five  to 


SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT       19 

sixty  miles  an  hour.  This  is  probably  the  maximum 
which  is  attained  only  in  the  initial  sprint  and  after  a 
very  short  distance  the  animals  must  slow  down  to  about 
forty  miles;  a  short  distance  more  and  they  drop  to 
twenty-five  or  thirty  miles,  and  at  this  pace  they  seem 
able  to  continue  almost  indefinitely.  They  never  ran 
faster  than  was  necessary  to  keep  well  away  from  us. 
As  we  opened  the  throttle  of  the  car  they,  too,  increased 
their  speed.  It  was  only  when  we  began  to  shoot  and 
they  became  thoroughly  frightened  that  they  showed 
what  they  could  do. 

I  remember  especially  one  fine  buck  which  gave  us  an 
exhibition  of  really  high-class  running.  He  started  al- 
most opposite  to  us  when  we  were  on  a  stretch  of  splen- 
did road  and  jogged  comfortably  along  at  thirty-five 
miles  an  hour.  Our  car  was  running  at  the  same  speed, 
but  he  decided  to  cross  in  front  and  pressed  his  accelera- 
tor a  little.  Coltman  also  touched  ours,  and  the  motor 
jumped  to  forty  miles.  The  antelope  seemed  very  much 
surprised  and  gave  his  accelerator  another  push.  Colt- 
man  did  likewise,  and  the  speedometer  registered  forty- 
five  miles.  That  was  about  enough  for  us,  and  we  held 
our  speed.  The  animal  drew  ahead  on  a  long  curve 
swinging  across  in  front  of  the  car.  He  had  beaten  us 
by  a  hundred  yards! 

But  we  had  a  surprise  in  store  for  him,  for  Coltman 
suddenly  shut  off  the  gas  and  threw  on  both  brakes. 
Before  the  motor  had  fully  stopped  we  opened  fire.  The 
first  two  bullets  struck  just  behind  the  antelope  and  a 
third  kicked  the  dust  between  his  legs.  The  shock  turned 


m  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

him  half  over,  but  he  righted  himself  and  ran  to  his  very 
limit.  The  bullets  spattering  all  about  kept  him  at  it 
for  six  hundred  yards.  He  put  up  a  desert  hare  on  the 
way,  but  that  hare  didn't  have  a  chance  with  the  ante- 
lope. It  reminded  me  of  the  story  of  the  negro  who  had 
seen  a  ghost.  He  ran  until  he  dropped  beside  the  road, 
but  the  ghost  was  right  beside  him.  "Well,"  said  the 
ghost,  "that  was  some  race  we  had."  "Yes,"  answered 
the  negro,  "but  it  ain't  nothin'  to  what  we're  goin'  to 
have  soon's  ever  I  git  my  breath.  And  then,"  said 
the  negro,  "we  ran  agin.  And  I  come  to  a  rabbit  leggin' 
it  up  the  road,  and  I  said,  *Git  out  of  the  way,  rabbit, 
and  let  some  one  run  what  can  run!'  "  The  last  we  saw 
of  the  antelope  was  a  cloud  of  yellow  dust  disappearing 
over  a  low  rise. 

The  excitement  of  the  chase  had  been  an  excellent 
preparation  for  the  hard  work  which  awaited  us  not  far 
ahead.  The  going  had  been  getting  heavier  with  every 
mile,  and  at  last  we  reached  a  long  stretch  of  sandy  road 
which  the  motors  could  not  pull  through.  With  every 
one  except  the  driver  out  of  the  car,  and  the  engine  rac- 
ing, we  pushed  and  lifted,  gaining  a  few  feet  each  time, 
until  the  shifting  sand  was  passed.  It  meant  two  hours 
of  violent  strain,  and  we  were  well-nigh  exhausted;  a 
few  miles  farther,  however,  it  had  all  to  be  done  again. 
Where  the  ground  was  hard,  there  was  such  a  chaos  of 
ruts  and  holes  that  our  arms  were  almost  wrenched  from 
their  sockets  by  the  twisting  wheels. 

This  area  more  nearly  approaches  a  desert  than  any 
other  part  of  the  road  to  Urga.    The  soil  is  mainly 


I 


SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT       «1 

sandy,  but  the  Gobi  sagebrush  and  short  bunch  grass, 
although  sparse  and  dry,  still  give  a  covering  of  vege- 
tation, so  that  in  the  distance  the  plain  appears  like  a 
rolling  meadowland. 

When  we  saw  our  first  northern  Mongol  I  was  de- 
lighted. Every  one  is  a  study  for  an  artist.  He  dresses 
in  a  long,  loose  robe  of  plum  color,  one  corner  of  which 
is  usually  tucked  into  a  gorgeous  sash.  On  his  head  is 
perched  an  extraordinary  hat  which  looks  like  a  saucer, 
with  upturned  edges  of  black  velvet  and  a  narrow  cone- 
shaped  crown  of  brilliant  yellow.  Two  streamers  of  red 
ribbon  are  usually  fastened  to  the  rim  at  the  back,  or  a 
plimie  of  peacock  feathers  if  he  be  of  higher  rank. 

On  his  feet  he  wears  a  pair  qf  enormous  leather  boots 
with  pointed  toes.  These  are  always  many  sizes  too 
large,  for  as  the  weather  grows  colder  he  pads  them  out 
with  heavy  socks  of  wool  or  fur.  It  is  nearly  impossible 
for  him  to  walk  in  this  ungainly  footgear,  and  he  wad- 
dles along  exactly  like  a  duck.  He  is  manifestly  uncom- 
fortable and  ill  at  ease,  but  put  him  on  a  horse  and  you 
have  a  different  picture.  The  high-peaked  saddle  and 
the  horse  itself  become  a  part  of  his  anatomy  and  he 
will  stay  there  happily  fifteen  hours  of  the  day. 

The  Mongols  ride  with  short  stirrups  and,  standing 
nearly  upright,  lean  far  over  the  horse's  neck  like  our 
western  cowboys.  As  they  tear  along  at  full  gallop  in 
their  brilliant  robes  they  seem  to  embody  the  very  spirit 
of  the  plains.  They  are  such  genial,  accommodating 
fellows,  always  ready  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  wiUing 


22  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

to  take  a  sporting  chance  on  anything  under  the  sun, 
that  they  won  my  heart  at  once. 

Above  all  things  they  love  a  race,  and  often  one  of 
them  would  range  up  beside  the  car  and,  with  a  radiant 
smile,  make  signs  that  he  wished  to  test  our  speed.  Then 
off  he  would  go  like  mad,  flogging  his  horse  and  yelling 
with  delight.  We  would  let  him  g£wn  at  first,  and  the 
expression  of  joy  and  triumph  on  his  face  was  worth 
going  far  to  see.  Sometimes,  if  the  road  was  heavy,  it 
would  need  every  ounce  of  gas  the  car  could  take  to 
forge  ahead,  for  the  ponies  are  splendid  animals.  The 
Mongols  ride  only  the  best  and  ride  them  hard,  since 
horses  are  cheap  in  Mongolia,  and  when  one  is  a  little 
worn  another  is  always  ready. 

Not  only  does  the  Mongol  inspire  you  with  admira- 
tion for  his  full-blooded,  virile  manhood,  but  also  you 
like  him  because  he  likes  you.  He  doesn't  try  to  disguise 
the  fact.  There  is  a  frank  openness  about  his  attitude 
which  is  wonderfully  appealing,  and  I  believe  that  the 
average  white  man  can  get  on  terms  of  easy  f  amiharity, 
and  even  intimacy,  with  Mongols  more  rapidly  than 
with  any  other  Orientals. 

Ude  is  the  second  telegraph  station  on  the  road  to 
Urga.  It  has  the  honor  of  appearing  on  most  maps  of 
Mongolia  and  yet  it  is  even  less  impressive  than  Panj- 
kiang.  There  are  only  two  mud  houses  and  half  a  dozen 
yurts  which  seem  to  have  been  dropped  carelessly  behind 
a  ragged  hill. 

After  leaving  Ude,  we  slipped  rapidly  up  and  down 
a  succession  of  low  hills  and  entered  upon  a  plain  so 


SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT       23 

vast  and  flat  that  we  appeared  to  be  looking  across  an 
ocean.  Not  the  smallest  hill  or  rise  of  ground  broke  the 
line  where  earth  and  sky  met  in  a  faint  blue  haze.  Our 
cars  seemed  like  tiny  boats  in  a  limitless,  grassy  sea.  It 
was  sixty  miles  across,  and  for  three  hours  the  steady 
hum  of  the  motor  hardly  ceased,  for  the  road  was  smooth 
and  hard.  Halfway  over  we  saw  another  great  herd  of 
antelope  and  several  groups  of  ten  or  twelve.  These 
were  a  different  species  from  those  we  had  killed,  and  I 
got  a  fine  young  buck.  Twice  wolves  trotted  across  the 
plain,  and  at  one,  which  was  very  inquisitive,  I  did  some 
shooting  which  I  vainly  try  to  forget. 

But  most  interesting  to  me  among  the  wild  life  along 
our  way  was  the  bustard.  It  is  a  huge  bird,  weighing 
from  fifteen  to  forty  pounds,  with  flesh  of  such  delicate 
flavor  that  it  rivals  our  best  turkey.  I  had  always 
wanted  to  kill  a  bustard  and  my  flrst  one  was  neatly 
eviscerated  at  two  hundred  yards  by  a  Savage  bullet. 
I  was  more  pleased  than  if  I  had  shot  an  antelope,  per- 
haps because  it  did  much  to  revive  my  spirits  after  the 
episode  of  the  wolf. 

Sand  grouse,  beautiful  little  gray  birds,  with  wings 
like  pigeons  and  remarkable,  padded  feet,  whistled  over 
us  as  we  rolled  along  the  road,  and  my  heart  was  sick 
with  the  thought  of  the  excellent  shooting  we  were  miss- 
ing. But  there  was  no  time  to  stop,  except  for  such 
game  as  actually  crossed  our  path,  else  we  should  never 
have  arrived  at  Urga,  the  City  of  the  Living  God. 

Speaking  of  gods,  I  must  not  forget  to  mention  the 
great  lamasery  at  Turin,  about  one  hundred  and  seventy 


24  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

miles  from  Urga,  For  hours  before  we  reached  it  we 
saw  the  ragged  hills  standing  sharp  and  clear  against 
the  sky  line.  The  peaks  themselves  are  not  more  than 
two  hundred  feet  in  height,  but  they  rise  from  a  rocky 
plateau  some  distance  above  the  level  of  the  plain.  It 
is  a  wild  spot  where  some  mighty  internal  force  has  burst 
the  surface  of  the  earth  and  pushed  up  a  ragged  core  of 
rocks  which  have  been  carved  by  the  knives  of  weather 
into  weird,  fantastic  shapes.  This  elemental  battle 
ground  is  a  fit  setting  for  the  most  remarkable  group  of 
human  habitations  that  I  have  ever  seen. 

Three  temples  lie  in  a  bowl-shaped  hollow,  surrounded 
by  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  tiny  pill-box  dwellings 
painted  red  and  white.  There  must  be  a  thousand  of 
them  and  probably  twice  as  many  lamas.  On  the  out- 
skirts of  the  "city"  to  the  south  enormous  piles  of  argvl 
have  been  collected  by  the  priests  and  bestowed  as  votive 
offerings  by  devout  travelers.  Vast  as  the  supply 
seemed,  it  would  take  all  this,  and  more,  to  warm  the 
houses  of  the  lamas  during  the  bitter  winter  months 
when  the  ground  is  covered  with  snow.  On  the  north 
the  hills  throw  protecting  arms  about  the  homes  of  these 
half -wild  men,  who  have  chosen  to  spend  their  lives  in 
this  lonely  desert  stronghold.  The  houses  are  built  of- 
sawn  boards,  the  first  indication  we  had  seen  that  we 
were  nearing  a  forest  country. 

The  remaining  one  hundred  and  seventy  miles  to 
Urga  are  a  delight,  even  to  the  motorist  who  loves  the 
paved  roads  of  cities.  They  are  like  a  boulevard  amid 
glorious,  rolling  hills  luxuriant  with  long,  sweet  grass. 


SPEED  MARVELS  OF  THE  GOBI  DESERT       25 

In  the  distance  herds  of  horses  and  cattle  grouped  them- 
selves into  moving  patches,  and  fat-tailed  sheep  dotted 
the  plain  like  drifts  of  snow.  I  have  seldom  seen  a  bet- 
ter grazing  country.  It  needed  but  little  imagination  to 
picture  what  it  will  be  a  few  years  hence  when  the  inevi- 
table railroad  claims  the  desert  as  its  own,  for  this  rich 
land  cannot  long  remain  untenanted.  It  was  here  that 
we  saw  the  first  marmots,  an  unfailing  indication  that 
we  were  in  a  northern  country. 

The  thick  blackness  of  a  rainy  night  had  enveloped  us 
long  before  we  swung  into  the  Urga  Valley  and  groped 
our  way  along  the  Tola  River  bank  toward  the  glim- 
mering lights  of  the  sacred  city.  It  seemed  that  we 
would  never  reach  them,  for  twice  we  took  the  wrong 
turn  and  found  ourselves  in  a  maze  of  sandy  bottoms 
and  half-grown  trees.  But  at  ten  o'clock  we  plowed 
through  the  mud  of  a  narrow  street  and  into  the  court- 
yard of  the  Mongolian  Trading  Company's  home. 

Oscar  Mamen,  Coltman's  former  partner,  and  Mrs. 
Mamen  had  spent  several  years  there,  and  for  six  weeks 
they  had  had  as  guests  Messrs.  A.  M.  Guptil  and  E.  B. 
Price,  of  Peking.  Mr.  Guptil  was  representing  the 
American  Military  Attache,  and  Mr.  Price,  Assistant 
Chinese  Secretary  of  the  American  Legation,  had  come 
to  Urga  to  establish  communication  with  our  consul  at 
Irkutsk  who  had  not  been  heard  from  for  more  than  a 
month. 

Urga  recently  had  been  pregnant  with  war  possibili- 
ties. In  the  Lake  Baikal  region  of  Siberia  there  were 
several  thousand  Magyars  and  many  Bolsheviki.    It  was 


26  ACROSa  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

known  that  Czechs  expected  to  attack  them,  and  that 
they  would  certainly  be  driven  across  the  borders  into 
Mongolia  if  defeated.  In  that  event  what  would  be 
the  attitude  of  the  Mongolian  government?  Would  it 
intern  the  belligerents,  or  allow  them  to  use  the  Urga 
district  as  a  base  of  operations? 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  question  had  been  settled  just 
before  my  arrival.  The  Czechs  had  made  the  expected 
attack  with  about  five  hundred  men;  all  the  Magyars, 
to  the  number  of  several  thousand,  had  surrendered,  and 
the  Bolsheviki  had  disappeared  like  mists  before  the  sun. 
The  front  of  operations  had  moved  in  a  single  night 
almost  two  thousand  miles  away  to  the  Omsk  district, 
and  it  was  certain  that  Mongolia  would  be  left  in  peace. 
Mr.  Price's  work  also  was  done,  for  the  telegraph  from 
Urga  to  Irkutsk  was  again  in  operation  and  thus  com- 
munication was  established  with  Peking. 

The  morning  after  my  arrival  Mr.  Guptil  and  I  rode 
out  to  see  the  town.  Never  have  I  visited  such  a  city  of 
contrasts,  or  one  to  which  I  was  so  eager  to  return.  As 
we  did  come  back,  I  shall  tell,  in  a  future  chapter,  of 
what  we  found  there. 


\. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS 

This  is  a  "hard  luck''  chapter.  Stories  of  ill-fortune 
are  not  always  interesting,  but  I  am  writing  this  one  to 
show  what  can  happen  to  an  automobile  in  the  Gobi. 
We  had  gone  to  Urga  without  even  a  puncture  and  I 
began  to  feel  that  motoring  in  Mongolia  was  as  simple 
as  riding  on  Fifth  Avenue — more  so,  in  fact,  for  we  did 
not  have  to  watch  traffic  policemen  or  worry  about 
"right  of  way."  There  is  no  crowding  on  the  Gobi 
Desert.  When  we  passed  a  camel  caravan  or  a  train  of 
oxcarts  we  were  sure  to  have  plenty  of  room,  for  the 
landscape  was  usually  spotted  in  every  direction  with 
fleeing  animals. 

Our  motors  had  "purred"  so  steadily  that  accidents 
and  repair  shops  seemed  very  far  away  and  not  of  much 
importance.  On  the  return  trip,  however,  the  reverse  of 
the  picture  was  presented  and  I  learned  that  to  be  alone 
in  the  desert  when  something  is  wrong  with  the  digestion 
of  your  automobile  can  have  its  serious  aspects.  Unless 
you  are  an  expert  mechanic  and  have  an  assortment  of 
"spare  parts,"  you  may  have  to  walk  thirty  or  forty 
miles  to  the  nearest  water  and  spend  many  days  of  wait- 
ing until  help  arrives. 

Fortunately  for  us,  there  are  few  things  which  either 

27 


28  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Coltman  or  Guptil  do  not  know  about  the  **insides"  of 
a  motor  and,  moreover,  after  a  diagnosis,  they  both  have 
the  ingenuity  to  remedy  almost  any  trouble  with  a  ham- 
mer and  a  screw  driver. 

Four  days  after  our  arrival  in  Urga  we  left  on  the 
return  trip.  As  occupants  of  his  car  Charles  Coltman 
had  Mr.  Price,  Mrs.  Coltman,  and  Mrs.  Mamen.  With 
the  spiritual  and  physical  assistance  of  Mr.  Guptil  I 
drove  the  second  automobile,  carrying  in  the  rear  seat 
a  wounded  Russian  Cossack  and  a  French- Czech,  both 
couriers.  The  third  car  was  a  Ford  chassis  to  which  a 
wooden  body  had  been  affixed.  It  was  designed  to  give 
increased  carrying  space,  but  it  looked  like  a  half -grown 
hayrack  and  was  appropriately  called  the  "agony  box." 
This  was  driven  by  a  chauffeur  named  Wang  and  car- 
ried Mamen's  Chinese  house  boy  and  an  amah  besides  a 
miscellaneous  assortment  of  baggage. 

It  was  a  cold,  gray  morning  when  we  started,  with  a 
cutting  wind  sweeping  down  from  the  north,  giving  a 
hint  of  the  bitter  winter  which  in  another  month  would 
hold  all  Mongolia  in  an  icy  grasp.  We  made  our  way 
eastward  up  the  valley  to  the  Russian  bridge  across  the  ; 
Tola  River  and  pointed  the  cars  southward  on  the  cara- 
van trail  to  Kalgan. 

Just  as  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  second  long  hill, 
across  which  the  wind  was  sweeping  in  a  glacial  blast,  ] 
there  came  a  rasping  crash  somewhere  in  the  motor  of 
my  car,  followed  by  a  steady  knock,  knock,  knock, 
"That's  a  connecting  rod  as  sure  as  fate,"  said  "Gup. 
"We'll  have  to  stop."    When  he  had  crawled  under  the 


»  -i 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS  29 

car  and  found  that  his  diagnosis  was  correct,  he  said 
a  few  other  things  which  ought  to  have  relieved  his  mind 
considerably. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  except  to  replace  the 
broken  part  with  a  spare  rod.  For  three  freezing  hours 
Gup  and  Coltman  lay  upon  their  backs  under  the  car, 
while  the  rest  of  us  gave  what  help  we  could.  To  add 
to  the  difficulties  a  shower  of  hail  swept  down  upon  us 
with  all  the  fury  of  a  Mongolian  storm.  It  was  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before  we  were  ready  to  go  on, 
and  our  camp  that  night  was  only  sixty  miles  from  Urga. 

The  next  day  as  we  passed  Turin  the  Czech  pointed 
out  the  spot  where  he  had  lain  for  three  days  and  nights 
with  a  broken  collar  bone  and  a  dislocated  shoulder.  He 
had  come  from  Irkutsk  carrying  important  dispatches 
and  had  taken  passage  in  an  automobile  belonging  to  a 
Chinese  company  which  with  difficulty  was  maintaining 
a  passenger  service  between  Urga  and  Kalgan.  As 
usual,  the  native  chauffeur  was  dashing  along  at  thirty- 
five  miles  an  hour  when  he  should  not  have  driven  faster 
than  twenty  at  the  most.  One  of  the  front  wheels  slid 
into  a  deep  rut,  the  car  turned  completely  over  and  the 
resulting  casualties  numbered  one  man  dead  and  our 
Czech  seriously  injured.  It  was  three  days  before  an- 
other car  carried  him  back  to  Urga,  where  the  broken 
bones  were  badly  set  by  a  drunken  Russian  doctor.  The 
Cossack,  too,  had  been  shot  twice  in  the  heavy  fighting 
on  the  Russian  front,  and,  although  his  wounds  were 
barely  healed,  he  had  just  ridden  three  hundred  miles 
on  horseback  with  dispatches  for  Peking. 


30  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Both  my  passengers  were  delighted  to  have  escaped 
the  Chinese  motors,  for  in  them  accidents  had  been  the 
rule  rather  than  the  exception.  During  one  year  nine- 
teen cars  had  been  smashed  and  lay  in  masses  of  twisted 
metal  beside  the  road.  The  difficulty  had  been  largely 
due  to  the  native  chauffeurs.  Although  these  men  can 
drive  a  car,  they  have  no  mechanical  training  and  danger 
signals  from  the  motor  are  entirely  disregarded.  More- 
over, all  Chinese  dearly  love  "show"  and  the  chauffeurs 
delight  in  driving  at  tremendous  speed  over  roads  where 
they  should  exercise  the  greatest  care.  The  deep  cart 
ruts  are  a  continual  menace,  for  between  them  the  road 
is  often  smooth  and  fine.  But  a  stone  or  a  tuft  of  grass 
may  send  one  of  the  front  wheels  into  a  rut  and  capsize 
the  car.  Even  with  the  greatest  care  accidents  will  hap- 
pen, and  motoring  in  Mongolia  is  by  no  means  devoid  of 
danger  and  excitement. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
we  saw  frantic  signals  from  the  agony  box  which  had 
been  lumbering  along  behind  us.  It  appeared  that  the 
right  rear  wheel  was  broken  and  the  car  could  go  no 
farther.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  camp  right 
where  we  were  while  Charles  repaired  the  wheel. 
Gup  and  I  ran  twenty  miles  down  the  road  to  look 
for  a  well,  but  without  success;  The  remaining  water 
was  divided  equally  among  us  but  next  morning  we  dis- 
covered that  the  Chinese  had  secreted  two  extra  bottles 
for  themselves,  while  we  had  been  saving  ours  to  the  last 
drop.  It  taught  me  a  lesson  by  which  I  profited  the  fol- 
lowing sunmier. 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS  31 

On  the  third  day  the  agony  box  limped  along  until 
noon,  but  when  we  reached  a  well  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  plain  south  of  Turin  it  had  to  be  abandoned,  while 
we  went  on  to  Ude,  the  telegraph  station  in  the  middle 
of  the  desert,  and  wired  Mamen  to  bring  a  spare  wheel 
from  Urga. 

The  fourth  day  there  was  more  trouble  with  the  con- 
necting rod  on  my  car  and.  we  sat  for  two  hours  at  a 
well  while  the  motor  was  eviscerated  and  reassembled. 
It  had  ceased  to  be  a  joke,  especially  to  Coltman 
and  Guptil,  for  all  the  work  fell  upon  them.  By  this 
time  they  were  almost  unrecognizable  because  of  dirt 
and  grease  and  their  hands  were  cut  and  blistered.  But 
they  stood  it  manfully,  and  at  each  new  accident  Gup 
rose  to  greater  and  greater  heights  of  oratory. 

We  were  halfway  between  Ude  and  Panj-kiang  when 
we  saw  two  automobiles  approaching  from  the  south. 
Their  occupants  were  foreigners  we  were  sure,  and  as 
they  stopped  beside  us  a  tall  young  man  came  up  to  my 
car.  "I  am  Langdon  Warner,"  he  said.  We  shook 
hands  and  looked  at  each  other  curiously.  Warner  is 
an  archaeologist  and  Director  of  the  Pennsylvania  Mu- 
seum. For  ten  years  we  had  played  a  game  of  hide  and 
seek  through  haljf  the  countries  of  the  Orient  and  it 
seemed  that  we  were  destined  never  to  meet  each  other. 
In  1910  I  drifted  into  the  quaint  little  town  of  Naha 
in  the  Loo-Choo  Islands,  that  forgotten  kingdom  of  the 
East.  At  that  time  it  was  far  off  the  beaten  track  and 
very  few  foreigners  had  sought  it  out  since  1854,  when 
Commodore  Perry  negotiated  a  treaty  with  its  king  in 


33  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

the  picturesque  old  Shuri  Palace.  Only  a  few  months 
before  I  arrived,  Langdon  Warner  had  visited  it  on  a 
collecting  trip  and  the  natives  had  not  yet  ceased  to  talk 
about  the  strange  foreigner  who  gave  them  new  baskets 
for  old  ones. 

A  little  later  Warner  preceded  me  to  Japan,  and  in 
1912  I  followed  him  to  Korea.  Our  paths  diverged 
when  I  went  to  Alaska  in  1913,  but  I  crossed  his  trail 
again  in  China,  and  in  1916,  just  before  my  wife  and  I 
left  for  Yiin-nan,  I  missed  him  in  Boston  where  I  had 
gone  to  lecture  at  Harvard  University.  It  was  strange 
that  after  ten  years  we  should  meet  for  the  first  time  in 
the  middle  of  the  Gobi  Desert ! 

Warner  was  proceeding  to  Urga  with  two  Czech  offi- 
cers who  were  on  their  way  to  Irkutsk.  We  gave  them 
the  latest  news  of  the  war  situation  and  much  to  their 
disgust  they  realized  that  had  they  waited  only  two 
weeks  longer  they  could  have  gone  by  train,  for  the  at- 
tack by  the  Czechs  on  the  Magyars  and  the  Bolsheviki, 
in  the  trans-Baikal  region,  had  cleared  the  Siberian  rail- 
way westward  as  far  as  Omsk.  After  half  an  hour's 
talk  we  drove  off  in  opposite  directions.  Warner  event- 
ually reached  Irkutsk,  but  not  without  some  interesting 
experiences  with  Bolsheviki  along  the  way,  and  I  did 
not  see  him  again  until  last  March  ( 1920) ,  when  he  came 
to  m.y  office  in  the  American  Museum  just  after  we  had 
returned  to  New  York. 

When  we  reached  Panj-kiang  we  felt  that  our  motor 
troubles  were  at  an  end,  but  ten  miles  beyond  the  station 
my  car  refused  to  pull  through  a  sand  pit  and  we  found 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS         ,  33 

that  there  was  trouble  with  the  differential.  It  was 
necessary  to  dismantle  the  rear  end  of  the  car,  and  Colt- 
man  and  Gup  were  well-nigh  discouraged.  The  delay- 
was  a  serious  matter  for  I  had  urgent  business  in  Japan, 
and  it  was  imperative  that  I  reach  Peking  as  soon  as 
possible.  Charles  finally  decided  to  send  me,  together 
with  Price,  the  Czech,  and  the  Cossack,  in  his  car,  while 
he  and  Gup  remained  with  the  two  ladies  to  repair 
mine. 

Price  and  I  drove  back  to  Panj-kiang  to  obtain  extra 
food  and  water  for  the  working  party  and  to  telegraph 
Kalgan  for  assistance.  We  took  only  a  little  tea,  maca- 
roni, and  two  tins  of  sausage,  for  we  expected  to  reach 
the  mission  station  at  Hei-ma-hou  early  the  next 
morning.  ' 

We  were  hardly  five  miles  from  the  broken  car  when 
we  discovered  that  there  was  no  more  oil  for  our  motor. 
It  was  impossible  to  go  much  farther  and  we  decided 
that  the  only  alternative  was  to  wait  until  the  relief 
party,  for  which  we  had  wired,  arrived  from  Kalgan. 
Just  then  the  car  swung  over  the  summit  of  a  rise,  and 
we  saw  the  white  tent  and  grazing  camels  of  an  enor- 
mous caravan.  Of  course,  Mongols  would  have  mutton 
fat  and  why  not  use  that  for  oil!  The  caravan  leader 
assured  us  that  he  had  fat  in  plenty  and  in  ten  minutes 
a  great  pot  of  it  was  warming  over  the  fire. 

We  poured  it  into  the  motor  and  proceeded  merrily 
on  our  way.  But  there  was  one  serious  obstacle  to  our 
enjoyment  of  that  ride.  Events  had  been  moving  so 
rapidly  that  we  had  eaten  nothing  since  breakfast,  and 


34  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

when  a  delicious  odor  of  roast  lamb  began  to  arise  from 
the  motor,  we  realized  that  we  were  all  very  hungry. 
Dry  macaroni  would  hardly  do  and  the  sausage  must  be 
saved  for  dinner.  All  the  afternoon  that  tantalizing 
odor  hovered  in  the  air  and  I  began  to  imagine  that  I 
could  even  smell  mint  sauce. 

At  six  o'clock  we  saw  the  first  yurt  and  purchased  a 
supply  of  argul  so  that  we  could  save  time  in  making 
camp.  The  lamps  of  the  car  were  hors  de  combat  and 
a  watery  moon  did  not  give  us  sufficient  light  by  which 
to  drive  in  safety,  so  we  stopped  on  a  hilltop  shortly 
after  dark.  In  the  morning  when  the  motor  was  cold 
we  could  save  time  and  strength  in  cranking  by  push- 
ing it  down  the  slope. 

Much  to  our  disgust  we  found  that  the  argid  we  had 
purchased  from  the  Mongol  was  so  mixed  with  dirt  that 
it  would  not  burn.  After  half  an  hour  of  fruitless  work 
I  gave  up,  and  we  divided  the  tin  of  cold  sausage.  It 
was  a  pretty  meager  dinner  for  four  hungry  men  and  I 
retired  into  my  sleeping  bag  to  dream  of  roast  lamb  and 
mint  sauce.  When  the  Cossack  officer  found  that  he 
was  not  to  have  his  tea  he  was  like  a  child  with  a  stick 
of  candy  just  out  of  reach.  He  tried  to  sleep  but  it  was 
no  use,  and  in  half  an  hour  I  opened  my  eyes  to  see  him 
flat  on  his  face  blowing  lustily  at  a  piece  of  argul  which 
he  had  persuaded  to  emit  a  faint  glow.  For  two  mortal 
hours  the  Russian  nursed  that  fire  until  his  pot  of  water 
reached  the  boiling  point.  Then  he  insisted  that  we  all 
wake  up  to  share  his  triumph. 

We  reached  the  mission  station  at  noon  next  day,  and 


I 


1  n 


A     -MOMIOI.IAN     ANIKI.OPE    Kil.t.Kl)    1  UO-Al     OUH    MOTOR    CAR 


WATERIXG     CA3IELS     AT     A     WELL    IX     THE     GOBI     DESERT 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS  85 

Father  Weinz,  the  Belgian  priest  in  charge,  gave  us  the 
first  meal  we  had  had  in  thirty-six  hours.  The  Czech 
courier  decided  to  remain  at  Hei-ma-hou  and  go  in  n^t 
day  by  cart,  but  we  started  immediately  on  the  forty- 
mile  horseback  ride  to  Kalgan.  A  steady  rain  began 
about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  half  an  hour 
we  were  soaked  to  the  skin;  then  the  ugly,  little  gray 
stallion  upon  which  I  had  been  mounted  planted  both 
hind  feet  squarely  on  my  left  leg  as  we  toiled  up  a  long 
hill-trail  to  the  pass,  and  I  thought  that  my  walking  days 
had  ended  for  all  time.  At  the  foot  of  the  pass  we 
halted  at  a  dirty  inn  where  they  told  us  it  would  be  use- 
less to  go  on  to  Kalgan,  for  the  gates  of  the  city  would 
certainly  be  closed  and  it  would  be  impossible  to  enter 
until  morning.  There  was  no  alternative  except  to 
spend  the  night  at  the  inn,  but  as  they  had  only  a  grass 
fire  which  burned  out  as  soon  as  the  cooking  was 
finished,  and  as  all  our  clothes  were  soaked,  we  spent 
sleepless  hours  shivering  with  cold. 

The  Cossack  spoke  only  Mongol  and  Russian,  and, 
as  neither  of  us  knew  a  single  word  of  either  language, 
it  was  difficult  to  communicate  our  plans  to  him.  Fi- 
nally, we  found  a  Chinaman  who  spoke  Mongol  and 
who  consented  to  act  as  interpreter.  The  natives  at  the 
inn  could  not  understand  why  we  were  not  able  to  talk 
to  the  Cossack.  Didn't  all  white  men  speak  the  same 
language?  Mr.  Price  endeavored  to  explain  that  Rus- 
sian and  English  differ  as  much  as  do  Chinese  and 
Mongol,  but  they  only  smiled  and  shook  their  heads. 

In  the  morning  I  was  so  stiff  from  the  kick  which  the 


36  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

gray  stallion  had  given  me  that  I  could  get  to  his  back 
only  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  but  we  reached  Kalgan 
at  eight  o'clock.  Unfortunately,  the  Cossack  had  left 
his  passport  in  the  cart  which  was  to  follow  with  his 
baggage,  and  the  police  at  the  gate  would  not  let  us 
pass.  Mr.  Price  was  well  known  to  them  and  offered 
to  assume  responsibility  for  the  Cossack  in  the  name 
of  the  American  Legation,  but  the  policemen,  who 
were  much  disgruntled  at  being  roused  so  early  in  the 
morning,  refused  to  let  us  enter. 

Their  attitude  was  so  obviously  absurd  that  we  agreed 
to  take  matters  into  our  own  hands.  We  strolled  out- 
side the  house  and  suddenly  jumped  on  our  horses. 
The  sentries  made  a  vain  attempt  to  catch  our  bridle 
reins  and  we  rode  down  the  street  at  a  sharp  trot. 
There  was  another  police  station  in  the  center  of  the 
city  which  it  was  impossible  to  avoid  and  as  we  ap- 
proached it  we  saw  a  line  of  soldiers  drawn  up  across 
the  road.  Our  friends  a?  the  gate  had  telephoned  ahead 
to  have  us  stopped.  Without  hesitating  we  kept  on, 
riding  straight  at  the  gray-clad  policemen.  With 
wildly  waving  arms  they  shouted  at  us  to  halt,  but  we 
paid  not  the  slightest  attention,  and  they  had  to  jump 
aside  to  avoid  being  run  down.  The  spectacle  which 
these  Chinese  soldiers  presented,  as  they  tried  to  arrest 
us,  was  so  ridiculous  that  we  roared  with  laughter. 
Imagine  what  would  happen  on  Fifth  Avenue  if  you 
disregarded  a  traffic  policeman's  signal  to  stop! 

Although  the  officials  knew  that  we  could  be  found 
at  Mr.  Coltman's  house,  we  heard  nothing  further  from 


I 


A  CHAPTER  OF  ACCIDENTS  37 

the  incident.  It  was  so  obviously  a  matter  of  personal 
ill  nature  on  the  part  of  the  captain  in  charge  of  the 
gate  police  that  they  realized  it  was  not  a  subject  for 
further  discussion. 

After  the  luxury  of  a  bath  and  shave  we  proceeded 
to  Peking.  Charles  and  Gup  had  rather  a  beastly 
time  getting  in.  The  car  could  not  be  repaired  suffi- 
ciently to  carry  on  under  its  own  power,  and,  through 
a  misunderstanding,  the  relief  party  only  went  as  far 
as  the  pass  and  waited  there  for  their  arrival.  They 
eventually  found  it  necessary  to  hire  three  horses  to 
tow  them  to  the  mission  station  where  the  *'hard  luck" 
story  ended. 


CHAPTER  IV 

NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL 

The  winter  of  1918-19  we  spent  in  and  out  of  one 
of  the  most  interesting  cities  in  the  world.  Peking, 
with  its  background  of  history  made  vividly  real  by 
its  splendid  walls,  its  age-old  temples  and  its  mysteri- 
ous Forbidden  City,  has  a  personality  of  its  own. 

When  we  had  been  away  for  a  month  or  two  there 
was  always  a  delightful  feeling  of  anticipation  in  re- 
turning to  the  city  itself  and  to  our  friends  in  its  cos- 
mopolitan community. 

Moreover,  at  our  house  in  Wu  Liang  Taj  en  Hutung, 
a  baby  boy  and  his  devoted  nurse  were  waiting  to  re- 
ceive us.  Even  at  two  years  the  extraordinary  facility 
with  which  he  discovered  frogs  and  bugs,  which,  quite 
unknown  to  us,  dwelt  in  the  flower-filled  courtyard, 
showed  the  hereditary  instincts  of  a  born  explorer. 

That  winter  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  see  much  of 
ancient  China,  for  we  visited  Shantung,  traveled 
straight  across  the  Provinces  of  Honan  and  Hupeh, 
and  wandered  about  the  mountains  of  Che-kiang  on  a 
serow  hunt. 

In  February  the  equipment  for  our  summer's  work 
in  Mongolia  was  on  its  way  across  the  desert  by  cara- 
van.   We  had  sent  flour,  bacon,  coflfee,  tea,  sugar,  but- 


NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL  39 

ter  and  dried  fruit,  for  these  could  be  purchased  in 
Urga  only  at  prohibitive  prices.  Even  then,  with 
camel  charges  at  fourteen  cents  a  cattie  (1%  lbs.),  a 
fifty-pound  sack  of  flour  cost  us  more  than  six  dollars 
by  the  time  it  reached  Urga. 

Charles  Coltman  at  Kalgan  very  kindly  relieved  me 
of  all  the  transportation  details.  We  had  seen  him 
several  times  in  Peking  during  the  winter,  and  had 
planned  the  trip  across  the  plains  to  Urga  as  une  belle 
excursion, 

Mrs.  Coltman  was  going,  of  course,  as  were  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  "Ted"  MacCallie  of  Tientsin.  "Mac"  was  a  fa- 
mous Cornell  football  star  whom  I  knew  by  reputation 
in  my  own  college  days.  He  was  to  take  a  complete 
Delco  electric  lighting  plant  to  Urga,  with  the  hope 
of  installing  it  in  the  palace  of  the  "Living  God." 

A  soldier  named  Owen  from  the  Legation  guard 
in  Peking  was  to  drive  the  Delco  car,  and  I  had  two 
Chinese  taxidermists,  Chen  and  Kang,  besides  Lii,  our 
cook  and  camp  boy. 

Chen  had  been  loaned  to  me  by  Dr.  J.  G.  Andersson, 
Mining  Adviser  to  the  Chinese  Republic,  and  proved 
to  be  one  of  the  best  native  collectors  whom  I  have  ever 
employed.  The  Coltmans  and  MacCallies  were  to  stay 
only  a  few  days  in  Urga,  but  they  helped  to  make  the 
trip  across  Mongolia  one  of  the  most  delightful  parts 
of  our  glorious  summer. 

We  left  Kalgan  on  May  IT.  Mac,  Owen,  and  I  rode 
the  forty  miles  to  Hei-ma-hou  on  horseback  while 
Charles  drove  a  motor  occupied  by  the  three  women. 


40  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

There  is  a  circuitous  route  by  which  cars  can  cross  the 
pass  under  their  own  power,  but  Coltman  preferred  the 
direct  road  and  sent  four  mules  to  tow  the  automobile 
up  the  mountains  to  the  edge  of  the  plateau. 

It  was  the  same  trail  I  had  followed  the  previous 
September.  Then,  as  I  stood  on  the  summit  of  the 
pass  gazing  back  across  the  far,  dim  hills,  my  heart 
was  sad  for  I  was  about  to  enter  a  new  land  alone. 
My  "best  assistant"  was  on  the  ocean  coming  as  fast  as 
steam  could  carry  her  to  join  me  in  Peking.  I  won- 
dered if  Fate's  decree  would  bring  us  here  together  that 
we  might  both  have,  as  a  precious  heritage  for  future 
years,  the  memories  of  this  strange  land  of  romance 
and  of  mystery.  Now  the  dream  had  been  fulfilled  and 
never  have  I  entered  a  new  country  with  greater  hopes 
of  what  it  would  bring  to  me.  Never,  too,  have  such 
hopes  been  more  gloriously  realized. 

We  packed  the  cars  that  night  and  at  half  past  five 
the  next  morning  were  on  the  road.  The  sky  was  gray 
and  cloud-hung,  but  by  ten  o'clock  the  sun  burned  out 
and  we  gradually  emerged  from  the  fur  robes  in  which 
we  had  been  buried. 

Instead  of  the  fields  of  ripenmg  grain  which  in  the 
previous  autumn  had  spread  the  hills  with  a  flowing 
golden  carpet,  we  saw  blue-clad  Chinese  farmers  turn- 
ing long  brown  furrows  with  homemade  plows.  The 
trees  about  the  mission  station  had  just  begun  to  show 
a  tinge  of  green — the  first  sign  of  awakening  at  the 
touch  of  spring  from  the  long  winter  sleep.  Already 
caravans  were  astir,  and  we  passed  lines  of  laden  camels 


NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL  41 

now  almost  at  the  end  of  the  long  journey  from  Outer 
Mongolia,  whither  we  were  bound.  But,  instead  of 
splendid  beasts  with  upstanding  humps  and  full  neck 
beards,  the  camels  now  were  pathetic  mountains  of  al- 
most naked  skin  on  which  the  winter  hair  hung  in  ragged 
patches.  The  humps  were  loose  and  flat  and  flapped 
disconsolately  as  the  great  bodies  lurched  along  the 
trail. 

When  we  passed  one  caravan  a  debonnaire  old  Mon- 
gol wearing  a  derby  hat  swung  out  of  line  and 
signaled  us  to  stop.  After  an  appraising  glance  at 
the  car  he  smiled  broadly  and  indicated  that  he  would 
like  to  race.  In  a  moment  he  was  oiF  yelling  at  the  top 
of  his  lungs  and  belaboring  the  bony  sides  of  his  camel 
with  feet  and  hands.  The  animal's  ungainly  legs 
swung  like  a  windmill  in  every  direction  it  seemed,  ex- 
cept forward,  and  yet  the  Mongol  managed  to  keep  his 
rolling  old  "ship  of  the  desert"  abreast  of  us  for  sev- 
eral minutes.  Finally  we  let  him  win  the  race,  and 
his  look  of  delight  was  worth  going  far  to  see  as  he 
waved  us  good-by  and  with  a  hearty  ''sai-hei-naK'  loped 
slowly  back  to  the  caravan. 

The  road  was  much  better  than  it  had  been  the  pre- 
vious fall.  During  the  winter  the  constant  tramp  of 
padded  feet  had  worn  down  and  filled  the  ruts  which 
had  been  cut  by  the  summer  traffic  of  spike-wheeled 
carts.  But  the  camels  had  almost  finished  their  winter's 
work.  In  a  few  weeks  they  would  leave  the  trail  to  ox 
and  pony  caravans  and  spend  the  hot  months  in  idle- 


42  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

ness,  storing  quantities  of  fat  in  their  great  hump  res- 
ervoirs. 

There  was  even  more  bird  life  than  I  had  seen  the 
previous  September.  The  geese  had  all  flown  north- 
ward where  we  would  find  them  scattered  over  their 
summer  breeding  grounds,  but  thousands  of  demoiselle 
cranes  {Anthropoides  virgo)  had  taken  their  places  in 
the  fields.  They  were  in  the  midst  of  the  spring  court- 
ing and  seemed  to  have  lost  all  fear.  One  pair  re- 
mained beside  the  road  until  we  were  less  than  twenty 
feet  away,  stepping  daintily  aside  only  when  we  threat- 
ened to  run  them  down.  Another  splendid  male  per- 
formed a  love  dance  for  the  benefit  of  his  prospective 
bride  quite  undisturbed  by  the  presence  of  our  cars. 
With  half-spread  wings  he  whirled  and  leaped  about 
the  lady  while  every  feather  on  her  slim,  blue  body  ex- 
pressed infinite  boredom  and  indifference  to  his  pas- 
sionate appeal. 

Ruddy  sheldrakes,  mallards,  shoveler  ducks,  and  teal 
were  in  even  the  smallest  ponds  and  avocets  with  sky- 
blue  legs  and  slender  recurved  bills  ran  along  the  shores 
of  a  lake  at  which  we  stopped  for  tiffin.  When  we 
had  passed  the  last  Chinese  village  and  were  well  in 
the  Mongolian  grasslands  we  had  great  fun  shooting 
gophers  {Citellus  mongolicus  umbratus)  from  the  cars. 
It  was  by  no  means  easy  to  kill  them  before  they  slipped 
into  their  dens,  and  I  often  had  to  burrow  like  a  ter- 
rier to  pull  them  out  even  when  they  were  almost  dead. 
We  got  eighteen,  and  camped  at  half  past  four  in 
order  that  the  taxidermists  might  have  time  to  prepare 


NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL  43 

the  skins.  There  was  a  hint  of  rain  in  the  air  and  we 
pitched  the  tent  for  emergencies,  although  none  of  us 
wished  to  sleep  inside.  Mac  suggested  that  we  util- 
ize the  electric  light  plant  even  if  we  were  on  the 
Mongolian  plains.  In  half  an  hour  he  had  installed 
wires  in  the  tent  and  placed  an  arc  lamp  on  the  summit 
of  a  pole.  It  was  an  extraordinary  experience  to  see 
the  canvas  walls  about  us,  to  hear  the  mournful  wail  of 
a  lone  wolf  outside,  and  yet  be  able  to  turn  the  switch 
of  an  electric  light  as  though  we  were  in  the  city.  No 
arc  lamp  on  Fifth  Avenue  blazed  more  brightly  than 
did  this  one  on  the  edge  of  the  Gobi  Desert  where  none 
of  its  kind  had  ever  shone  before.  With  the  motor 
cars  which  had  stolen  the  sanctity  of  the  plains  it  was 
only  another  evidence  of  the  passing  of  Mongolian  mys- 
tery. 

Usually  when  we  camped  we  could  see,  almost  imme- 
diately, the  silhouettes  of  approaching  Mongols  black 
against  the  evening  sky.  Where  they  came  from  we 
could  never  guess.  For  miles  there  might  not  have 
been  the  trace  of  a  human  being,  but  suddenly  they 
would  appear  as  though  from  out  the  earth  itself.  Per- 
haps they  had  been  riding  along  some  distant  ridge 
far  beyond  the  range  of  white  men's  eyes,  or  the  roar 
of  a  motor  had  carried  to  their  ears  across  the  miles  of 
plain;  or  perhaps  it  was  that  unknown  sense,  which 
seems  to  have  been  developed  in  these  children  of  the 
desert,  which  directs  them  unerringly  to  water,  to  a  lost 
horse,  or  to  others  of  their  kind.    Be  it  what  it  may, 


44  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

almost  every  night  the  Mongols  came  loping  into  camp 
on  their  hardy,  little  ponies. 

But  this  evening,  when  we  had  prepared  an  especial 
celebration,  the  audience  did  not  arrive.  It  was  a  bit- 
ter disappointment,  for  we  were  consumed  with  curi- 
osity to  know  what  effect  the  blazing  arc  would  have 
upon  the  Mongolian  stoics.  We  could  not  believe  that 
natives  had  not  seen  the  light  but  probably  they 
thought  it  was  some  spirit  manifestation  which  was  to 
be  avoided.  An  hour  after  we  were  snuggled  in  our 
fur  sleeping  bags,  two  Mongols  rode  into  camp,  but 
we  were  too  sleepy  to  give  an  exhibition  of  .the  fire- 
works. 

We  reached  Panj-kiang  about  noon  of  the  second 
day  and  found  that  a  large  mud  house  and  a  spacious 
compound  had  been  erected  beside  the  telegraph  sta- 
tion by  the  Chinese  company  which  was  endeavoring 
to  maintain  a  passenger  service  between  Kalgan  and 
Urga.  The  Chinese  government  also  had  invaded  the 
field  and  was  sending  automobiles  regularly  to  the 
Mongolian  capital  as  a  branch  service  of  the  Peking- 
Suiyuan  railroad.  In  the  previous  September  we  had 
passed  half  a  dozen  of  their  motors  in  charge  of  a  for- 
eign representative  of  Messrs.  Jardine,  Matheson  and 
Co.  of  Shanghai  from  whom  the  cars  were  purchased. 
He  discovered  immediately  that  the  difficulties  which 
the  Chinese  had  encountered  were  largely  the  result  of 
incompetent  chauffeurs. 

We  had  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  antelope,  but  saw 
nothing  except  a  fox  which  looked  so  huge  in  the  clear 


1^  NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL  45 

air  that  all  of  us  were  certain  it  was  a  wolf.  There 
are  always  antelope  on  the  Panj-kiang  plain,  however, 
and  we  loaded  the  magazines  of  our  rifles  as  soon  as 
we  left  the  telegraph  station.  I  was  having  a  bit  of 
sport  with  an  immense  flock  of  golden  plover  (Pluvialis 
dominicus  fulvus)  when  the  people  in  the  cars  signaled 
me  to  return,  for  a  fine  antelope  buck  was  standing 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  road.  The  ground 
was  as  smooth  and  hard  as  an  asphalt  pavement  and 
we  skimmed  along  at  forty  miles  an  hour.  When  the 
animal  had  definitely  made  up  its  mind  to  cross  in  front 
of  us,  Charles  gave  the  accelerator  a  real  push  and  the 
car  jumped  to  a  speed  of  forty-eight  miles.  The  an- 
telope was  doing  his  level  best  to  **cross  our  bows"  but 
he  was  too  far  away,  and  for  a  few  moments  it  seemed 
that  we  would  surely  crash  into  him  if  he  held  his  course. 
It  was  a  great  race.  Yvette  had  a  death  grip  on  my 
coat,  for  I  was  sitting  half  over  the  edge  of  the  car 
ready  to  jump  when  Charles  threw  on  the  brakes. 
With  any  one  but  Coltman  at  the  wheel  I  would  have 
been  too  nervous  to  enjoy  the  ride,  but  we  all  had  con- 
fidence in  his  superb  driving. 

The  buck  crossed  the  road  not  forty  yards  in  front 
of  us,  just  at  the  summit  of  a  tiny  hill.  Charles  and 
I  both  fired  once,  and  the  antelope  turned  half  over  in 
a  whirl  of  dust.  It  disappeared  behind  the  hill  crest 
and  we  expected  to  find  it  dead  on  the  other  side,  but 
the  slope  was  empty  and  even  with  our  glasses'  we  could 
not  discover  a  sign  of  life  on  the  plain,  which  stretched 
away  to  the  horizon  apparently  as  level  as  a  floor.    It' 


46  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

had  been  swallowed  utterly  as  though  by  the  magic 
pocket  of  a  conjurer. 

Mac  had  not  participated  in  the  fun,  for  it  had 
been  a  one-man  race.  Fifteen  minutes  later,  however, 
we  had  a  "free  for  all"  which  gave  him  his  initiation. 

An  extract  from  Yvette's  "Journal"  gives  her  im- 
pression of  the  chase: 

"Some  one  pointed  out  the  distant,  moving  specks? 
on  the  horizon  and  in  a  moment  our  car  had  left  the 
road  and  started  over  the  plains.  Nearer  and  nearer 
we  came,  and  faster  and  faster  ran  the  antelope  string- 
ing out  in  a  long,  yellow  line  before  us.  The  speedome- 
ter was  moving  up  and  up,  thirty  miles,  thirty-five 
miles.  Roy  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  car  with  his 
legs  hanging  out,  rifle  in  hand,  ready  to  swing  to  the 
ground  as  soon  as  the  car  halted.  Mr.  Coltman,  who 
was  driving,  had  already  thrown  on  the  brakes,  but 
Roy,  thinking  in  his  excitement  that  he  had  stopped, 
jumped — and  jumped  too  soon.  The  speed  at  which 
we  were  going  threw  him  violently  to  the  ground.  I 
hardly  dared  look  to  see  what  had  happened  but  some- 
how he  turned  a  complete  somersault,  landed  on  his 
knees,  and  instantly  began  shooting.  Mr.  Coltman,  his 
hands  trembling  with  the  exertion  of  the  drive,  opened 
fire  across  the  wind  shield.  As  the  first  reports  crashed 
out,  the  antelope,  which  had  seemed  to  be  flying  before, 
flattened  out  and  literally  skimmed  over  the  plain. 
Half  a  dozen  bullets  struck  behind  the  herd,  then  as 
Roy's  rifle  cracked  again,  one  of  those  tiny  specks 
dropped  to  the  ground. 


'J   J     J    >  > 


p 


NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL  47 

It  was  a  wonderful  shot — four  hundred  and  twenty 
yards  measured  distance.  No,  this  isn't  a  woman's  in- 
accuracy of  figures,  it's  a  fact.  But  then  you  must  re- 
member the  extraordinary  clearness  of  the  air  in  Mon- 
goha,  where  every  object  appears  to  be  magnified  half 
a  dozen  times.  The  brilliant  atmosphere  is  one  of  the 
most  bewildering  things  of  the  desert.  Once  we 
thought  we  saw  an  antelope  grazing  on  the  hillside 
and  Mr.  Coltman  remarked  disdainfully:  *Pooh,  that's 
a  horse.'  But  the  laugh  was  on  him  for  as  we  drew 
near  the  *horse'  proved  to  be  only  a  bleached  bone.  At 
a  short  distance  camels  and  ponies  stood  out  as  though 
cut  in  steel,  seeming  as  high  as  a  village  church  steeple ; 
and,  most  ridiculous  of  all,  my  husband  mistook  me 
once  at  a  long,  long  distance  for  a  telegraph  pole! 
Tartarin  de  Tarascon  would  have  had  some  wonderful 
stories  to  tell  of  Mongolia!" 

We  had  hardly  reached  the  road  again  before  Mrs. 
Coltman  discovered  a  great  herd  of  antelope  on  the 
slope  of  a  low  hill,  and  when  the  cars  carried  us  over 
the  crest  we  could  see  animals  in  every  direction,  feed- 
ing in  pairs  or  in  groups  of  ten  to  forty. 

We  all  agreed  that  no  better  place  could  be  found 
at  which  to  obtain  motion  pictures  and  camp  was  made 
forthwith.  Unfortunately,  the  gazelles  were  shedding 
their  winter  coats  and  the  skins  were  useless  except  for 
study;  however,  I  did  need  half  a  dozen  skeletons,  so 
the  animals  we  killed  would  not  be  wasted. 

It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the  tents 
were  up  and  too  late  to  take  pictures;  therefore,  the 


48  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

photography  was  postponed  until  the  next  day,  and 
we  ran  over  toward  a  herd  of  antelope  which  was 
just  visible  on  the  sky  line.  When  each  of  us  had  killed 
an  animal,  the  opinion  was  unanimous  that  we  had 
enough.  I  got  mine  on  the  first  chase  and  thenceforth 
employed  my  time  in  making  observations  on  the  an- 
telope's speed. 

Time  after  time  the  car  reached  forty  miles  an  hour, 
but  with  an  even  start  the  gazelles  could  swing  about 
in  front  and  "cross  our  bows."  One  of  the  antelope 
had  a  front  leg  broken  just  below  the  knee,  and  gave 
us  a  hard  chase  with  the  car  going  at  thirty-five  miles 
an  hour.  I  estimated  that  even  in  its  crippled  condi- 
tion the  animal  was  traveling  at  a  rate  of  not  less  than 
twenty- five  miles  an  hour. 

My  field  notes  tell  of  a  similar  experience  with  the 
last  gazelle  which  Mac  killed  late  in  the  afternoon. 
"...  We  ran  toward  another  group  of  antelope  stand- 
ing on  the  simimit  of  a  long  land  swell.  There  were 
fourteen  in  this  herd  and  as  the  car  neared  them  they 
trotted  about  with  heads  up,  evidently  trying  to  decide 
what  species  of  plains  animal  we  represented.  The 
sun  had  just  set,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  picture 
which  they  made,  their  graceful  figures  showing  in 
black  silhouettes  against  the  rose  glow  of  the  evening 
sky.  There  was  one  buck  among  them  and  they 
seemed  very  nervous.  When  the  men  leaped  out  to 
shoot  we  were  fully  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
away,  but  at  his  third  shot  Mac  dropped  the  buck. 
It  was  up  again  and  off  before  the  motor  started  in 


NEW  TRAVELS  ON  AN  OLD  TRAIL  49 

pursuit  and,  although  running  apart  from  the  herd,  it 
was  only  a  short  distance  behind  the  others.  Evidently 
the  right  foreleg  was  broken  but  with  the  car  traveling 
at  twenty-five  miles  an  hour  it  was  still  drawing  ahead. 
The  going  was  not  good  and  we  ran  for  two  miles  with- 
out gaining  an  inch;  then  we  came  to  a  bit  of  smooth 
plain  and  the  motor  shot  ahead  at  thirty-five  miles  an 
hour.  We  gained  slowly  and,  when  about  one  hundred 
yards  away,  I  leaped  out  and  fired  at  the  animal  break- 
'  ing  the  other  foreleg  low  down  on  the  left  side.  Even 
with  two  legs  injured  it  still  traveled  at  a  rate  of  fifteen 
miles,  and  a  third  shot  was  required  to  finish  the  unfor- 
tunate business.  We  found  that  both  limbs  were  broken 
below  the  knee,  and  that  the  animal  had  been  running 
on  the  stumps." 


CHAPTER  V 

ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS 

It  was  eight  o'clock  before  we  finished  breakfast  in 
the  morning,  but  we  did  not  wish  to  begin  the  motion 
picture  photography  until  the  sun  was  high  enough 
above  the  horizon  to  give  us  a  clear  field  for  work. 
Charles  and  I  rigged  the  tripod  firmly  in  the  tonneau 
of  one  of  the  cars.  Mrs.  Mac  and  Wang,  a  Chinese 
driver,  were  in  the  front  seat,  while  Yvette  and  I 
squeezed  in  beside  the  camera.  The  Coltmans,  Mac, 
and  Owen  occupied  the  other  motor.  We  found  a 
herd  of  antelope  within  a  mile  of  camp  and  they  pa- 
raded in  beautiful  formation  as  the  car  approached.  It 
would  have  made  a  splendid  picture,  but  although  the 
two  automobiles  were  of  the  same  make,  there  was  a 
vast  difference  in  their  speed  and  it  was  soon  evident 
that  we  could  not  keep  pace  with  the  other  motor. 
After  two  or  three  ineffectual  attempts  we  roped  the 
camera  in  the  most  powerful  car,  the  three  men  came 
in  with  me,  and  the  women  transferred  to  Wang's  ma- 
chine. 

The  last  herd  of  antelope  had  disappeared  over  a  long 
hill,  and  when  we  reached  the  summit  we  saw  that  they 
had  separated  into  four  groups  and  scattered  about 
on  the  plains  below  us.    We  selected  the  largest,  con- 

50 


ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS  61 

taining  about  fifty  animals,  and  ran  toward  it  as  fast 
as  the  car  could  travel.  The  herd  divided  when  we 
were  still  several  hundred  yards  away,  but  the  larger 
part  gave  promise  of  swinging  across  our  path.  The 
ground  was  thinly  covered  with  short  bunch  grass,  and 
when  we  reached  a  speed  of  thirty-five  miles  an  hour 
the  car  was  bounding  and  leaping  over  the  tussocks 
like  a  ship  in  a  heavy  gale.  I  tried  to  stand,  but  after 
twice  being  almost  pitched  out  bodily  I  gave  it  up  and 
operated  the  camera  by  kneeling  on  the  rear  seat. 
Mac  helped  anchor  me  by  sitting  on  my  left  leg,  and 
we  got  one  hundred  feet  of  film  from  the  first  herd. 
Races  with  three  other  groups  gave  us  two  hundred 
feet  more,  and  as  the  gasoline  in  our  tank  was  alarm- 
ingly depleted  we  turned  back  toward  camp. 

Unfortunately  I  did  not  reload  the  camera  with  a 
fresh  roll  of  film  and  thereby  missed  one  of  the  most 
unusual  and  interesting  pictures  which  ever  could  be 
obtained  upon  the  plains.  The  tents  were  already  in 
sight  when  a  wolf  suddenly  appeared  on  the  crest  of 
a  grassy  knoll.  He  looked  at  us  for  a  moment  and 
then  set  off  at  an  easy  lope.  The  temptation  was  too 
great  to  be  resisted  even  though  there  was  a  strong 
possibility  that  we  might  be  stalled  in  the  desert  with 
no  gas. 

The  ground  was  smooth  and  hard,  and  our  speed- 
ometer showed  forty  miles  an  hour.  We  soon  began 
to  gain,  but  for  three  miles  he  gave  us  a  splendid  race. 
Suddenly,  as  we  came  over  a  low  hill,  we  saw  an  enor- 
mous herd  of  antelope  directly  in  front  of  us.     They 


52  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

were  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  away,  and  the 
wolf  made  straight  for  them.  Panic-stricken  at  the 
sight  of  their  hereditary  enemy  followed  by  the  roaring 
car,  they  scattered  wildly  and  then  swung  about  to 
cross  our  path.  The  wolf  dashed  into  their  midst  and 
the  herd  divided  as  though  cut  by  a  knife.  Some  turned 
short  about,  but  the  others  kept  on  toward  us  until  I 
thought  we  would  actually  run  them  down.  When  not 
more  than  fifty  yards  from  the  motor  they  wheeled 
sharply  and  raced  along  beside  the  wolf. 

To  add  to  the  excitement  a  fat,  yellow  marmot,  which 
seemed  suddenly  to  have  lost  his  mind,  galloped  over 
the  plain  as  fast  as  his  short  legs  could  carry  him  until 
he  remembered  that  safety  lay  underground;  then  he 
popped  into  his  burrow  like  a  billiard  ball  into  a  pocket. 
With  this  strange  assortment  fleeing  in  front  of  the 
car  we  felt  as  though  we  had  invaded  a  zoological  gar- 
den. 

The  wolf  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  the  an- 
telope for  he  had  troubles  of  his  own.  We  were  almost 
on  him,  and  I  could  see  his  red  tongue  between  the 
foam-flecked  jaws.  Suddenly  he  dodged  at  right  an- 
gles, and  it  was  only  by  a  clever  bit  of  driving  that 
Charles  avoided  crashing  into  him  with  the  left  front 
wheel.  Before  we  could  swing  about  the  wolf  had 
gained  five  hundred  yards,  but  he  was  almost  done. 
In  another  mile  we  had  him  right  beside  the  car,  and 
Coltman  leaned  far  out  to  kill  him  with  his  pistol.  The 
first  bullet  struck  so  close  behind  the  animal  that  it 
turned  him  half  over,  and  he  dodged  again  just  in  time 


I 


ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS  53 

to  meet  a  shot  from  Mac's  rifle  which  broke  his  back. 
With  its  dripping  lips  drawn  over  a  set  of  ugly  teeth, 
the  beast  glared  at  us,  as  much  as  to  say,  "It  is  your 
move  next,  but  don't  come  top  close."  Had  it  been 
any  animal  except  a  wolf  I  should  have  felt  a  twinge 
of  pity,  but  I  had  no  sympathy  for  the  skulking  brute. 
There  will  be  more  antelope  next  year  because  of  its 
death. 

All  this  had  happened  with  an  unloaded  camera  in 
the  automobile.  I  had  tried  desperately  to  adjust  a 
new  roll  of  film,  but  had  given  up  in  despair  for  it  was 
difficult  enough  even  to  sit  in  the  bounding  car.  Were 
I  to  spend  the  remainder  of  my  life  in  Mongolia  there 
might  never  be  such  a  chance  again. 

But  we  had  an  opportunity  to  learn  just  how  fast  a 
wolf  can  run,  for  the  one  we  had  killed  was  undoubt- 
edly putting  his  best  foot  forward.  I  estimated  that 
even  at  first  he  was  not  doing  more  than  thirty-five 
miles  an  hour,  and  later  we  substantiated  it  on  another, 
which  gave  us  a  race  of  twelve  miles.  With  antelope 
which  can  reach  fifty-five  to  sixty  miles  an  hour  a  wolf 
has  little  chance,  unless  he  catches  them  unawares,  or 
finds  the  newly  born  young.  To  avoid  just  this  the 
antelope  are  careful  to  stay  well  out  on  the  plains 
where  there  are  no  rocks  or  hills  to  conceal  a  skulking 
wolf. 

The  wolf  we  had  killed  was  shedding  its  hair  and  pre- 
sented a  most  dilapidated,  moth-eaten  appearance; 
moreover,  it  had  just  been  feeding  on  the  carcass  of  a 
dead  camel,  which  subsequently  we  discovered  a  mile 


64  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

away.  When  we  reached  camp  I  directed  the  two 
taxidermists  to  prepare  the  skeleton  of  the  wolf ,  but  to 
keep  well  away  from  the  tents. 

Charles  and  I  had  been  talking  a  good  deal  about 
antelope  steak,  and  for  tiffin  I  had  cut  the  fillets  from 
one  of  the  young  gazelle.  We  were  very  anxious  to 
"make  good"  on  all  that  had  been  promised,  so  we 
cooked  the^  steak  ourselves.  Just  when  the  party  was 
assembled  in  the  tent  for  luncheon  the  Chinese  began 
work  upon  the  wolf.  They  had  obediently  gone  to  a 
considerable  distance  to  perform  the  last  rites,  but  had 
not  chosen  wisely  in  regard  to  the  wind.  As  the  an- 
telope steak  was  brought  in,  a  gentle  breeze  wafted  with 
it  a  concentrated  essence  of  defunct  camel.  Yvette 
put  down  her  knife  and  fork  and  looked  up.  She 
caught  my  eye  and  burst  out  laughing.  Mrs.  Mac 
had  her  hand  clasped  firmly  over  her  mouth  and  on  her 
face  was  an  expression  of  horror  and  deathly  nausea. 

Although  I  am  a  great  lover  of  antelope  steak,  I  will 
admit  that  when  accompanied  by  parfum  de  chameau, 
especially  when  it  is  a  very  dead  chameau,  there  are 
other  things  more  attractive.  Moreover,  the  antelope 
which  we  killed  on  the  Panj-kiang  plain  really  were 
very  strong  indeed.  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover 
what  was  the  cause,  for  those  farther  to  the  north  were 
as  delicious  as  any  we  have  ever  eaten.  The  introduc- 
tion was  such  an  unfortunate  one  that  the  party  shied 
badly  whenever  antelope  meat  was  mentioned  during 
the  remainder  of  the  trip  to  Urga.  Coltman,  who  had 
charge  of  the  commissary,  quite  naturally  expected  that 


ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS  65 

we  would  depend  largely  on  meat  and  had  not  provided 
a  sufficiency  of  other  food.  As  a  result  we  found  that 
after  the  third  day  rations  were  becoming  very  short. 

We  camped  that  night  at  a  well  in  a  sandy  river 
bottom  about  ten  miles  beyond  Ude,  the  halfway  point 
on  the  trip  to  Urga.  It  had  been  a  bad  day,  with  a  bit- 
terly cold  wind  which  drove  the  dust  and  tiny  pebbles 
against  our  faces  like  a  continual  storm  of  hail.  As 
soon  as  the  cars  had  stopped  every  one  of  us  set  to  work 
with  soap  and  water  before  anything  had  been  done 
toward  making  camp.  Our  one  desire  was  to  remove 
a  part  of  the  dirt  which  had  sifted  into  our  eyes,  hair, 
mouths,  and  ears.  In  half  an  hour  we  looked  more 
brightly  upon  the  world  and  began  to  wonder  what 
we  would  have  for  dinner.  It  was  a  discussion  which 
could  not  be  carried  on  for  very  long  since  the  bread 
was  almost  gone  and  only  macaroni  remained.  Just 
then  a  demoiselle  crane  alighted  beside  the  well  not 
forty  yards  away.  "There's  our  dinner,"  Charles 
shouted,  "shoot  it." 

Two  minutes  later  I  was  stripping  off  the  feathers, 
and  in  less  than  five  minutes  it  was  sizzling  in  the  pan. 
That  was  a  bit  too  much  for  Mrs.  Mac,  hungry  as 
she  was.  "Just  think,"  she  said,  "that  bird  was  walk- 
ing about  here  not  ten  minutes  ago  and  now  it's  on  my 
plate.     It  hasn't  stopped  wiggling  yet.     I  can't  eat  it!" 

Poor  girl,  she  went  to  bed  hungry,  and  in  the  nighi 
waked  to  find  her  face  terribly  swollen  from  wind  and 
sunburn.  She  was  certain  that  she  was  about  to  die, 
but  decided,  like  the  "good  sport"  she  is,  to  die  alone 


56  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

upon  the  hillside  where  she  wouldn't  disturb  the  camp. 
After  half  an  hour  of  wandering  about  she  felt  better, 
and  returned  to  her  sleeping  bag  on  the  sandy  river 
bottom. 

Just  before  dark  we  heard  the  dongj  dong,  dong  of 
a  camel's  bell  and  saw  the  long  line  of  dusty  yellow 
animals  swing  around  a  sharp  earth-corner  into  the 
sandy  space  beside  the  well.  Like  the  trained  units  of 
an  army  each  camel  came  into  position,  kneeled  upon 
the  ground  and  remained  quietly  chewing  its  cud  until 
the  driver  removed  the  load.  Long  before  the  last 
straggler  had  arrived  the  tents  were  up  and  a  fire  blaz- 
ing, and  far  into  the  night  the  thirsty  beasts  grunted 
and  roared  as  the  trough  was  filled  with  water. 

For  thirty-six  days  they  had  been  on  the  road,  and 
yet  were  only  halfway  across  the  desert.  Every 
day  had  been  exactly  like  the  day  before — an  endless 
routine  of  eating  and  sleeping,  camp -making  and  camp- 
breaking  in  sun,  rain,  or  wind.  The  monotony  of  it 
all  would  be  appalling  to  a  westerner,  but  the  Oriental 
mind  seems  peculiarly  adapted  to  accept  it  with  entire 
contentment.  Long  before  daylight  they  were  on  the 
road  again,  and  when  we  awoke  only  the  smoking  em- 
bers of  an  argul  fire  remained  as  evidence  that  they 
ever  had  been  there. 

Mongolia,  as  we  saw  it  in  the  spring,  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  Mongolia  of  the  early  autumn.  The  hills 
and  plains  stretched  away  in  limitless  waves  of  brown 
untinged  by  the  slightest  trace  of  green,  and  in  shaded 
corners  among  rocks  there  were  still  patches  of  snow 


ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS  67 

or  ice.  Instead  of  resembling  the  grassy  plains  of 
Kansas  or  Nebraska,  now  it  was  like  a  real  desert  and 
I  had  difficulty  in  justifying  to  Yvette  and  Mac  my 
glowing  accounts  of  its  potential  resources. 

Moreover,  the  human  life  was  just  as  disappointing 
as  the  lack  of  vegetation,  for  we  were  "between  sea- 
sons" on  the  trail.  The  winter  traffic  was  almost  ended, 
and  the  camels  would  not  be  replaced  by  cart  caravans 
until  the  grass  was  long  enough  to  provide  adequate 
food  for  oxen  and  horses.  The  yurts,  which  often  are 
erected  far  out  upon  the  plains  away  from  water  when 
snow  is  on  the  ground,  had  all  been  moved  near  the 
wells  or  to  the  summer  pastures;  and  sometimes  we 
traveled  a  hundred  miles  without  a  glimpse  of  even 
a  solitary  Mongol. 

Ude  had  been  left  far  behind,  and  we  were  bowl- 
ing along  on  a  road  as  level  as  a  floor,  when  we  saw 
two  wolves  quietly  watching  us  half  a  mile  away.  We 
had  agreed  not  to  chase  antelope  again ;  but  wolves  were 
fair  game  at  any  time.  Moreover,  we  were  particu- 
larly glad  to  be  able  to  check  our  records  as  to  how  fast 
a  wolf  can  run  when  conditions  are  in  its  favor.  Colt- 
man  signaled  Mac  to  await  us  with  the  others,  and 
we  swung  toward  the  animals  which  were  trotting 
slowly  westward,  now  and  then  stopping  to  look  back 
as  though  reluctant  to  leave  such  an  unusual  exhibition 
as  the  car  was  giving  them.  A  few  moments  later, 
however,  they  decided  that  curiosity  might  prove  dan- 
gerous and  began  to  run  in  earnest. 

They  separated  almost  immediately,  and  we  raced 


68  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

after  the  larger  of  the  two,  a  huge  fellow  with  rangy- 
legs  which  carried  him  forward  in  a  long,  swinging 
lope.  The  ground  was  perfect  for  the  car,  and  the 
speedometer  registered  forty  miles  an  hour.  He  had 
a  thousand-yard  start,  but  we  gained  rapidly,  and  I 
estimated  that  he  never  reached  a  greater  speed  than 
thirty  miles  an  hour.  Charles  was  very  anxious  to  kill 
the  brute  from  the  motor  with  his  .45  caliber  automatic 
pistol,  and  I  promised  not  to  shoot. 

The  wolf  was  running  low  to  the  ground,  his  head 
a  little  to  one  side  watching  us  with  one  bloodshot 
eye.  He  was  giving  us  a  great  race,  but  the  odds  were 
all  against  him,  and  finally  we  had  him  right  beside 
the  motor.  Leaning  far  out,  Coltman  fired  quickly. 
The  bullet  struck  just  behind  the  brute,  and  he  swerved 
sharply,  missing  the  right  front  wheel  by  a  scant  six 
inches.  Before  Charles  could  turn  the  car  he  had 
gained  three  hundred  yards,  but  we  reached  him  again 
in  little  more  than  a  mile.  As  Coltman  was  about  to 
shoot  a  second  time,  the  wolf  suddenly  dropped  from 
sight.  Almost  on  the  instant  the  car  plunged  over  a 
bank  four  feet  in  height,  landed  with  a  tremendous 
shock — and  kept  on!  Charles  had  seen  the  danger  in 
a  flash,  and  had  thrown  his  body  against  the  wheel  to 
hold  it  steady.  Had  he  not  been  an  expert  driver  we 
should  inevitably  have  turned  upside  down  and  prob- 
ably all  would  have  been  killed. 

We  stopped  an  instant  to  inspect  the  springs,  but 
by  a  miracle  not  a  leaf  was  broken.  The  wolf  halted, 
too,  and  we  could  see  him  standing  on  a  gentle  rise  with 


ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS  69 

drooping  head,  his  gray  sides  heaving.  He  seemed  to 
be  "all  in,"  but  to  our  amazement  he  was  off  again  like 
the  wind  even  before  the  car  had  started.  During  the 
last  three  miles  the  ground  had  been  changing  rap- 
idly, and  We  soon  reached  a  stony  plain  where  there 
was  imminent  danger  of  smashing  a  front  wheel.  The 
wolf  was  heading  directly  toward  a  rocky  slope  which 
lay  against  the  sky  like  the  spiny  back  of  some  gigan- 
tic monster  of  the  past. 

His  strategy  had  almost  won  the  race.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  wolf  rested  on  the  ridge,  and  I  leaped  out  to 
shoot,  but  instantly  he  dropped  behind  the  bowlders. 
Leaving  me  to  intercept  the  animal,  Charles  swung  be- 
hind the  ridge  only  to  run  at  full  speed  into  a  sandy 
pocket.  The  motor  ceased  to  throb,  and  the  race  was 
ended. 

These  wolves  are  sneaking  carrion-feeders  and  as 
such  I  detest  them,  but  this  one  had  "played  the  game." 
For  twelve  long  miles  he  had  kept  doggedly  at  his  work 
without  a  whimper  or  a  cry  of  "kamerad."  The  brute 
had  outgeneraled  us  completely,  had  won  by  strategy 
and  magnificent  endurance.  Whatever  he  supposed  the 
roaring  car  to  be,  instinct  told  him  that  safety  lay 
among  the  rocks  and  he  led  us  there  as  straight  as  an 
arrow's  flight. 

The  animal  seemed  to  take  an  almost  human  enjoy- 
ment in  the  way  we  had  been  tricked,  for  he  stood  on 
a  hillside  half  a  mile  away  watching  our  efforts  to  ex- 
tricate the  car.  We  were  in  a  bad  place,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  only  method  of  escape  was  to  remove 


60  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

all  the  baggage  which  was  tied  to  the  running  boards. 
Spreading  our  fur  sleeping  bags  upon  the  sand,  we 
pushed  and  lifted  the  automobile  to  firm  ground  after 
an  hour  of  strenuous  work.  Hardly  had  we  started 
back  to  the  road,  when  Charles  suddenly  clapped  both 
hands  to  his  face  yelling,  "My  Lord,  I'm  burning  up. 
What  is  it?     I'm  all  on  fire." 

Mrs.  Coltman  pulled  his  hands  away,  revealing  his 
face  covered  with  blotches  and  rising  blisters.  At  the 
same  moment  Yvette  and  I  felt  a  shower  of  liquid  fire 
stinging  our  hands  and  necks.  We  leaped  out  of  the 
car  just  as  another  blast  swept  back  upon  us.  Then 
Charles  shouted,  "I  know.  It's  the  Delco  plant,"  and 
dived  toward  the  front  mud  guard.  Sure  enough,  the 
cover  had  been  displaced  from  one  of  the  batteries,  and 
little  pools  of  sulphuric  acid  had  formed  on  the  leather 
casings.  The  wind  was  blowing  half  a  gale,  and  each 
gust  showered  us  with  drops  of  colorless  liquid  which 
bit  like  tiny,  living  coals. 

In  less  than  ten  seconds  I  had  slashed  the  ropes  and 
the  batteries  were  lying  on  the  ground,  but  the  acid 
had  already  done  its  work  most  thoroughly.  The  duffle 
sacks  containing  all  our  field  clothes  had  received  a  lib- 
eral dose,  and  during  the  summer  Yvette  was  kept  busy 
patching  shirts  and  trousers.  I  never  would  have 
believed  that  a  little  acid  could  go  so  far.  Even  gar- 
ments in  the  very  center  of  the  sacks  would  suddenly 
disintegrate  when  we  put  them  on,  and  the  Hutukhtu 
and  his  electric  plant  were  ''blessed"  many  times  before 
we  left  Mongolia. 


t 


o  e  •  e         t      •  < 


THE   PRISON   AT  UHGA 


A    CRIMINAL   IX    A    COFFIX    WITH    HANDS    MANACLED 


I 


ANTELOPE  MOVIE  STARS  61 


When  we  reached  the  road,  Mrs.  Mae  was  sitting 
disconsolately  in  a  car  beside  the  servants.  We  had 
been  gone  nearly  three  hours  and  the  poor  girl  was 
frantic  with  anxiety.  Mac  and  Owen  had  followed 
our  tracks  in  another  motor,  and  arrived  thirty  min- 
utes later.    Mac's  happy  face  was  drawn  and  white. 

"I  wouldn't  go  through  that  experience  again  for 
all  the  money  in  Mongolia,"  he  said.  "We  followed 
your  tracks  and  at  every  hill  expected  to  find  you  dead 
on  the  other  side  and  the  car  upside  down.  How  on 
earth  did  you  miss  capsizing  when  you  went  over  that 
bank?" 

At  Turin  we  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mamen  camped 
near  the  telegraph  station  awaiting  our  arrival.  The 
first  cry  was  "Food!  Food!"  and  two  loaves  of  Russian 
bread  which  they  had  brought  from  Urga  vanished  in 
less  than  fifteen  minutes.  After  taking  several  hun- 
dred feet  of  "movie"  film  at  the  monastery,  we  ran  on 
northward  over  a  road  which  was  as  smooth  and  hard 
as  a  billiard  table.  The  Turin  plain  was  alive  with 
game;  marmots,  antelope,  hares,  bustards,  geese,  and 
cranes  seemed  to  have  concentrated  there  as  though  in 
a  vast  zoological  garden,  and  we  had  some  splendid 
shooting.  But  as  Yvette  and  I  spent  two  glorious 
months  on  this  same  plain,  I  will  tell  in  future  chapters 
how,  in  long  morning  horseback  rides  and  during  silent 
starlit  nights,  we  learned  to  know  and  love  it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA 

Far  up  in  noifthern  Mongolia,  where  the  forests 
stretch  in  an  unbroken  line  to  the  Siberian  frontier, 
lies  Urga,  the  Sacred  City  of  the  Living  Buddha.  The 
world  has  other  sacred  cities,  but  none  like  this.  It  is 
a  relic  of  medieval  times  overlaid  with  a  veneer  of  twen- 
tieth-century civilization ;  a  city  of  violent  contrasts  and 
glaring  anachronisms.  Motor  cars  pass  camel  cara- 
vans fresh  from  the  vast,  lone  spaces  of  the  Gobi  Des- 
ert ;  holy  lamas,  in  robes  of  flaming  red  or  brilliant  yel- 
low, walk  side  by  side  with  black-gowned  priests;  and 
swarthy  Mongol  women,  in  the  fantastic  headdress  of 
their  race,  stare  wonderingly  at  the  latest  fashions  of 
their  Russian  sisters. 

We  came  to  Urga  from  the  south.  All  day  we  had 
been  riding  over  rolling,  treeless  uplands,  and  late  in 
the  afternoon  we  had  halted  on  the  summit  of  a  hill 
overlooking  the  Tola  River  valley.  Fifteen  miles  away 
lay  Urga,  asleep  in  the  darkening  shadow  of  the 
Bogdo-ol  (God's  Mountain).  An  hour  later  the  road 
led  us  to  our  first  surprise  in  Mai-ma-cheng,  the  Chi- 
nese quarter  of  the  city.  Years  of  wandering  in  the 
strange  corners  of  the  world  had  left  us  totally  unpre- 
pared for  what  we  saw.     It  seemed  that  here  in  Mon- 

62 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     63 

golia  we  had  discovered  an  American  frontier  outpost 
of  the  Indian  fighting  days.  Every  house  and  shop  was 
protected  by  high  stockades  of  unpeeled  timbers,  and 
there  was  hardly  a  trace  of  Oriental  architecture  save 
where  a  temple  roof  gleamed  above  the  palisades. 

Before  we  were  able  to  adjust  our  mental  perspec- 
tive we  had  passed  from  colonial  America  into  a  ham- 
let of  modem  Russia.  Gayly  painted  cottages  lined 
the  road,  and,  unconsciously,  I  looked  for  a  white 
church  with  gilded  cupolas.  The  church  was  not  in 
sight,  but  its  place  was  taken  by  a  huge  red  building  of 
surpassing  ugliness,  the  Russian  Consulate.  It  stands 
alone  on  the  summit  of  a  knoll,  the  open  plains  stretch- 
ing away  behind  it  to  the  somber  masses  of  the  north- 
ern forests.  In  its  imposing  proportions  it  is  tangible 
evidence  of  the  Russian  Colossus  which  not  many  years 
ago  dominated  Urga  and  all  that  is  left  of  the  ancient 
empire  of  the  Khans. 

For  two  miles  the  road  is  bordered  by  Russian  cot- 
tages ;  then  it  debouches  into  a  wide  square  which  loses 
its  distinctive  character  and  becomes  an  indescribable 
mixture  of  Russia,  Mongolia,  and  China.  Palisaded 
compounds,  gay  with  fluttering  prayer  flags,  ornate 
houses,  felt-covered  yurts,  and  Chinese  shops  mingle  in 
a  dizzying  chaos  of  conflicting  personalities.  Three 
great  races  have  met  in  Urga  and  each  carries  on,  in 
this  far  corner  of  Mongolia,  its  own  customs  and  way 
of  life.  The  Mongol  yurt  has  remained  unchanged ;  the 
Chinese  shop,  with  its  wooden  counter  and  blue-gowned 


64?  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

inmates,  is  pure  Chinese;  and  the  ornate  cottages  pro- 
claim themselves  to  be  only  Russian. 

But  on  the  street  my  wife  and  I  could  never  forget 
that  we  were  in  Mongolia.  We  never  tired  of  wan- 
dering through  the  narrow  alleys,  with  their  tiny  na- 
tive shops,  or  of  watching  the  ever-changing  crowds. 
Mongols  in  half  a  dozen  different  tribal  dresses,  Tibetan 
pilgrims,  Manchu  Tartars,  or  camel  drivers  from  far 
Turkestan  drank  and  ate  and  gambled  with  Chinese 
from  civilized  Peking. 

The  barbaric  splendor  of  the  native  dress  fairly  makes 
one  gasp  for  breath.  Besides  gowns  and  sashes  of  daz- 
zling brilliance,  the  men  wear  on  their  heads  all  the  types 
of  covering  one  learned  to  know  in  the  pictures  of 
ancient  Cathay,  from  the  high-peaked  hat  of  yellow  and 
black — through  the  whole,  strange  gamut — to  the  helmet 
with  streaming  peacock  plumes.  But  were  I  to  tell 
about  them  all  I  would  leave  none  of  my  poor  descrip- 
tive phrases  for  the  women. 

It  is  hopeless  to  draw  a  word-picture  of  a  Mongol 
woman.  A  photograph  will  help,  but  to  be  appreciated 
she  must  be  seen  in  all  her  colors.  To  begin  with  the 
dressing  of  her  hair.  If  all  the  women  of  the  Orient 
competed  to  produce  a  strange  and  fantastic  type,  I  do 
not  believe  that  they  could  excel  what  the  Mongol  ma- 
trons have  developed  by  themselves. 

Their  hair  is  plaited  over  a  frame  into  two  enormous 
flat  bands,  curved  like  the  horns  of  a  mountain  sheep 
and  reenforced  with  bars  of  wood  or  silver.  Each  horn 
ends  in  a  silver  plaque,  studded  with  bits  of  colored  glass 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     65 

or  stone,  and  supports  a  pendent  braid  like  a  riding 
quirt.  On  her  head,  between  the  horns,  she  wears  a  sil- 
ver cap  elaborately  chased  and  flashing  with  "jewels." 
Surmounting  this  is  a  "saucer"  hat  of  black  and  yellow. 
Her  skirt  is  of  gorgeous  brocade  or  cloth,  and  the  jacket 
is  of  like  material  with  prominent  "puffs"  upon  the 
shoulders.  She  wears  huge  leather  boots  with  upturned, 
pointed  toes,  similar  to  those  of  the  men,  and  when  in 
full  array  she  has  a  whole  portiere  of  beadwork  sus- 
pended from  the  region  of  her  ears. 

She  is  altogether  satisfying  to  the  lover  of  fantastic 
Oriental  costumes,  except  in  the  matter  of  footgear,  and 
this  slight  exception  might  be  allowed,  for  she  has  so 
amply  decorated  every  other  available  part  of  her 
anatomy. 

Moreover,  the  boots  form  a  very  necessary  adjunct 
to  her  personal  equipment,  besides  providing  a  cover- 
ing for  her  feet.  They  are  many  sizes  too  large,  of 
course,  but  they  furnish  ample  space  during  the  bitter 
cold  of  winter  for  the  addition  of  several  pairs  of  socks, 
varying  in  number  according  to  the  thermometer.  Dur- 
ing the  summer  she  often  wears  no  socks  at  all,  but  their 
place  is  taken  by  an  assortment  of  small  articles  which 
cannot  be  carried  conveniently  on  her  person.  Her  pipe 
and  tobacco,  a  package  of  tea,  or  a  wooden  bowl  can 
easily  be  stuffed  into  the  wide  top  boots,  for  pockets  are 
an  unknown  luxury  even  to  the  men. 

In  its  kaleidoscopic  mass  of  life  and  color  the  city  is 
like  a  great  pageant  on  the  stage  of  a  theater,  with  the 
added  fascination  of  reality.     But,  somehow,  I  could 


66  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

never  quite  make  myself  believe  that  it  tmis  real  when  a 
brilliant  group  of  horsemen  in  pointed,  yellow  hats  and 
streaming,  peacock  feathers  dashed  down  the  street.  It 
seemed  too  impossible  that  I,  a  wandering  naturalist  of 
the  drab,  prosaic  twentieth  century,  and  my  American 
wife  were  really  a  living,  breathing  part  of  this  strange 
drama  of  the  Orient. 

But  there  was  one  point  of  contact  which  we  had  with 
this  dream-life  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Yvette  and  I  both 
love  horses,  and  the  way  to  a  Mongol's  heart  is  through 
his  pony.  Once  on  horseback  we  began  to  identify  our- 
selves with  the  fascinating  life  around  us.  We  lost  the 
uncomfortable  sense  of  being  merely  spectators  in  the 
Urga  theatricals,  and  forgot  that  we  had  come  to  the 
holy  city  by  means  of  a  very  unromantic  motor  car. 

We  remained  at  Urga  for  ten  days  while  preparations 
were  under  way  for  our  first  trip  to  the  plains,  and  re- 
turned to  it  often  during  the  summer.  We  came  to 
know  it  well,  and  each  time  we  rode  down  the  long  street 
it  seemed  more  wonderful  that,  in  these  days  of  com- 
merce, Urga,  and  in  fact  all  Mongolia,  could  have  ex- 
isted throughout  the  centuries  with  so  little  change. 

There  is,  of  course,  no  lack  of  modern  influence  in  the 
sacred  city,  but  as  yet  it  is  merely  a  veneer  which  has 
been  lightly  superimposed  upon  its  ancient  civilization, 
leaving  almost  untouched  the  basic  customs  of  its  peo- 
ple. This  has  been  due  to  the  remoteness  of  Mongolia. 
Until  a  few  years  ago,  when  motor  cars  first  made  their 
way  across  the  seven  hundred  miles  of  plains,  the  only 
access  from  the  south  was  by  camel  caravan,  and  the 


I 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     67 

monotonous  trip  offered  little  inducement  to  casual  trav- 
elers. The  Russians  came  to  TJrga  from  the  north  and, 
until  the  recent  war,  their  influence  was  paramount 
along  the  border.  They  were  by  no  means  anxious  to 
have  other  foreigners  exploit  Mongolia,  and  they  wished 
especially  to  keep  the  country  as  a  buffer-state  between 
themselves  and  China. 

Not  only  is  Urga  the  capital  of  Mongolia  and  the 
only  city  of  considerable  size  in  the  entire  country  but 
it  is  also  the  residence  of  the  Hutukhtu,  or  Living 
Buddha,  the  head  of  both  the  Church  and  the  State. 
Across  the  valley  his  palaces  nestle  close  against  the 
base  of  the  Bogdo-ol  (God's  Mountain),  which  rises  in 
wooded  slopes  from  the  river  to  an  elevation  of  eleven 
thousand  feet  above  sea  level. 

The  Sacred  Mountain  is  a  vast  game  preserve,  which 
is  patrolled  by  two  thousand  lamas,  and  every  approach 
is  guarded  by  a  temple  or  a  camp  of  priests.  Great 
herds  of  elk,  roebuck,  boar,  and  other  animals  roam  the 
forests,  but  to  shoot  within  the  sacred  precincts  would 
mean  almost  certain  death  for  the  transgressor.  Some 
years  ago  several  Russians  from  Urga  made  their  way 
up  the  mountain  during  the  night  and  killed  a  bear. 
They  were  brought  back  in  chains  by  a  mob  of  frenzied 
lamas.  Although  the  hunters  had  been  beaten  nearly  to 
death,  it  required  all  the  influence  of  the  Russian  diplo- 
matic agent  to  save  what  remained  of  their  lives. 

The  Bogdo-ol  extends  for  twenty-five  miles  along  the 
Tola  Valley,  shutting  off  Urga  from  the  rolling  plains 
to  the  south.    Like  a  gigantic  guardian  of  the  holy  city 


68  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

at  its  base,  it  stands  as  the  only  obstacle  to  the  wireless 
station  which  is  soon  to  be  erected. 

The  Hutukhtu  has  three  palaces  on  the  banks  of  the 
Tola  River.  One  of  them  is  a  hideous  thing,  built  in 
Russian  style.  The  other  two  at  least  have  the  virtue 
of  native  architecture.  In  the  main  palace  the  cen- 
tral structure  is  white  with  gilded  cupolas,  and  smaller 
pavilions  at  the  side  have  roofs  of  green.  The  whole  is 
surrounded  by  an  eight-foot  stockade  of  white  posts 
trimmed  with  red. 

The  Hutukhtu  seldom  leaves  his  palace  now,  for  he 
is  old  and  sick  and  almost  blind.  Many  strange  stories 
are  told  of  the  mysterious  "Living  God"  which  tend  to 
show  him  "as  of  the  earth  earthy."  It  is  said  that  in 
former  days  he  sometimes  left  his  "heaven"  to  revel  with 
convivial  foreigners  in  Urga;  but  all  this  is  gossip  and 
we  are  discussing  a  very  saintly  person.  His  passion 
for  Occidental  trinkets  and  inventions  is  well  known, 
however,  and  his  palace  is  a  veritable  storehouse 
for  gramophones,  typewriters,  microscopes,  sewing 
machines,  and  a  host  of  other  things  sold  to  him  by 
Russian  traders  and  illustrated  in  picture  catalogues 
sent  from  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  world.  But  like 
a  child  he  soon  tires  of  his  toys  and  throws  them  aside. 
He  has  a  motor  car,  but  he  never  rides  in  it.  It  has  been 
reported  that  his  chief  use  for  the  automobile  is  to  attach 
a  wire  to  its  batteries  and  give  his  ministers  an  electric 
shock;  for  all  Mongols  love  a  practical  joke,  and  the 
Hutukhtu  is  no  exception. 

Now  his  palace  is  wired  for  electricity,  and  a  great  arc 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     69 

light  illuminates  the  courtyard.  One  evening  Mr.  Lu- 
cander  and  Mr.  Mamen,  who  sold  the  electric  plant  to 
the  Hutukhtu,  were  summoned  to  the  palace  to  receive 
payment.  They  ^witnessed  a  scene  which  to-day  could 
be  possible  only  in  Mongolia.  Several  thousand  dollars 
in  silver  were  brought  outside  to  their  motor  car,  and 
the  lama,  who  paid  the  bills,  insisted  that  they  count  it  in 
his  presence. 

A  great  crowd  of  Mongols  had  gathered  near  the  pal- 
ace and  at  last  a  long  rope  was  let  out  from  one  of  the 
buildings.  Kneeling,  the  Mongols  reverently  touched 
the  rope,  which  was  gently  waggled  from  the  other  end, 
supposedly  by  the  Hutukhtu.  A  barbaric  monotone  of 
chanted  prayers  arose  from  the  kneeling  suppliants,  and 
the  rope  was  waggled  again.  Then  the  Mongols  rode 
away,  silent  with  awe  at  having  been  blessed  by  the 
Living  God.  All  this  under  a  blazing  electric  light  be- 
side an  automobile  at  the  foot  of  the  Bogdo-ol! 

The  Hutukhtu  seemed  to  feel  that  it  became  his  sta- 
tion as  a  ruling  monarch  to  have  a  foreign  house  with 
foreign  furniture.  Of  course  he  never  intended  to  live 
in  it,  but  other  kings  had  useless  palaces  and  why 
shouldn't  he  ?  Therefore,  a  Russian  atrocity  of  red  brick 
was  erected  a  half  mile  or  so  from  his  other  dwellings. 
The  furnishing  became  a  matter  of  moment,  and  Mr. 
Lucander,  who  was  temporarily  in  the  employ  of  the 
Mongolian  Government,  wasantrusted  with  the  task  of 
attending  to  the  intimate  details.  The  selection  of  a 
bed  was  most  important,  for  even  Living  Buddhas  have 
to  sleep  sometimes — ^they  cannot  always  be  blessing 


70  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

adoring  subjects  or  playing  jokes  on  their  ministers  of 
state.  With  considerable  difficulty  a  foreign  bed  was 
purchased  and  brought  across  the  seven  hundred  miles 
of  plains  and  desert  to  the  red  brick  palace  on  the  banks 
of  the  Tola  River. 

Mr.  Lucander  superintended  its  installation  in  the 
Hutukhtu's  boudoir  and  himself  turned  chambermaid. 
As  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  made  a  bed  for  a 
Living  God,  he  arranged  the  spotless  sheets  and  turned 
down  the  covers  with  the  greatest  care.  When  all  was 
done  to  his  satisfaction  he  reported  to  one  of  the  Hu- 
tukhtu's ministers  that  the  bed  was  ready.  Two  lamas, 
high  dignitaries  of  the  church,  were  the  inspection  com- 
mittee. They  agreed  that  it  looked  all  right,  but  the 
question  was,  how  did  it  feel?  Mr.  Lucander  waxed  elo- 
quent on  the  "springiness"  of  the  springs,  and  assured 
them  that  no  bed  could  be  better;  that  this  was  the  bed 
par  excellence  of  all  the  beds  in  China.  The  lamas  held 
a  guttural  consultation  and  then  announced  that  before 
the  bed  could  be  accepted  it  must  be  tested.  Therefore, 
without  more  ado,  each  lama  in  his  dirty  boots  and  gown 
laid  his  unwashed  self  upon  the  bed,  and  bounced  up 
and  down.  The  result  was  satisfactory — except  to  Lu- 
cander and  the  sheets. 

Although  to  foreign  eyes  and  in  the  cold  light  of 
modernity  the  Hutukhtu  and  his  government  cut  a  some- 
what ridiculous  figure,  the  reverse  of  the  picture  is  the 
pathetic  death  struggle  of  a  once  glorious  race.  I  have 
said  that  unaccustomed  luxury  was  responsible  for  the 
decline  of  the  Mongol  Empire,  but  the  ruin  of  the  race 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     71 

was  due  to  the  Lama  Church.  Lamaism,  which  was  in- 
troduced from  Tibet,  gained  its  hold  not  long  after  the 
time  of  Kublai  Khan's  death  in  1295.  Previous  to  this 
the  Mongols  had  been  religious  liberals,  but  eventually 
Lamaism  was  made  the  religion  of  the  state.  It  is  a 
branch  of  the  Buddhist  cult,  and  its  teachings  are 
against  war  and  violent  death. 

By  custom  one  or  more  sons  of  every  family  are  dedi- 
cated to  the  priesthood,  and  as  Lamaism  requires  its 
priests  to  be  celibate,  the  birth  rate  is  low.  To-day  there 
are  only  a  few  million  Mongols  in  a  country  half  as 
large  as  the  United  States  (exclusive  of  Alaska),  a 
great  proportion  of  the  male  population  being  lamas. 
With  no  education,  except  in  the  books  of  their  sect, 
they  lead  a  lazy,  worthless  existence,  supported  by  the 
lay  population  and  by  the  money  they  extract  by  prey- 
ing upon  the  superstitions  of  their  childlike  brothers. 
Were  Lamaism  abolished  there  still  would  be  hope  for 
Mongolia  under  a  proper  government,  for  the  Mongols 
of  to-day  are  probably  the  equals  of  Genghis  Khan's 
warriors  in  strength,  endurance,  and  virility. 

The  religion  of  Mongolia  is  like  that  of  Tibet  and  the 
Dalai  Lama  of  Lhassa  is  the  head  of  the  entire  Church. 
The  Tashi  Lama  residing  at  Tashilumpo,  also  in  Tibet, 
ranks  second.  The  Hutukhtu  of  Mongolia  is  third  in  the 
Lama  hierarchy,  bearing  the  title  Cheptswndampa  Hv^ 
tukhtu  (Venerable  Best  Saint).  According  to  ancient 
tradition,  the  Hutukhtu  never  dies;  his  spirit  simply 
reappears  in  the  person  of  some  newly  born  infant  and 
thus  comes  forth  reembodied.     The  names  of  infants. 


7«  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

who  have  been  selected  as  possible  candidates  for  the 
honor,  are  written  upon  slips  of  paper  incased  in  rolls 
of  paste  and  deposited  in  a  golden  urn.  The  one  which 
is  drawn  is  hailed  as  the  new  incarnation. 

Some  years  ago  the  eyesight  of  the  Hutukhtu  began 
to  fail,  and  a  great  temple  was  erected  as  a  sacrifice  to 
appease  the  gods.  It  stands  on  a  hill  at  the  western  end 
of  Urga,  surrounded  by  the  tiny  wooden  dwellings  of 
the  priests.  "The  Lama  City"  it  is  called,  for  only  those 
in  the  service  of  the  Church  are  allowed  to  live  within 
its  sacred  precincts.  In  the  temple  itself  there  is  an 
eighty-foot  bronze  image  of  Buddha  standing  on  a 
golden  lotus  flower.  The  great  figure  is  heavily  gilded, 
incrusted  with  precious  stones,  and  draped  with  silken 
cloths. 

I  was  fortunate  in  being  present  one  day  when  the 
temple  was  opened  to  women  and  the  faithful  in  the 
city.  Somewhat  doubtful  as  to  my  reception,  I  followed 
the  crowd  as  it  filed  through  an  outer  pavilion  between 
a  double  row  of  kneeling  lamas  in  high-peaked  hats  and 
robes  of  flaming  yellow.  I  carried  my  hat  in  my  hand 
and  tried  to  wear  a  becoming  expression  of  humility  and 
reverence.  It  was  evidently  successful,  for  I  passed  un- 
hindered into  the  Presence.  At  the  entrance  stood  a 
priest  who  gave  me,  with  the  others,  a  few  drops  of  holy 
water  from  a  filthy  jug.  Silent  with  awe,  the  people 
bathed  their  faces  with  the  precious  fluid  and  prostrated 
themselves  before  the  gigantic  figure  standing  on  the 
golden  lotus  blossom,  its  head  lost  in  the  shadows  of  the 
temple  roof.    They  kissed  its  silken  draperies,  soiled  by 


i 


c    -       ,-     «  , 


LAMAS    CALLING   THE    GODS   AT   A    TEMPLE    IN    URGA 


MONGOL    PRAYING    AT   A    SHRINE    IN    URGA 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     73 

the  lips  of  other  thousands,  and  each  one  gathered  a 
handful  of  sacred  dirt  from  the  temple  floor.  From 
niches  in  the  walls  hundreds  of  tiny  Buddhas  gazed  im- 
passively on  the  worshiping  Mongols. 

The  scene  was  intoxicating  in  its  barbaric  splendor. 
The  women  in  their  fantastic  headdresses  and  brilliant 
gowns ;  the  blazing  yellow  robes  of  the  kneeling  lamas ; 
and  the  chorus  of  prayers  which  rose  and  fell  in  a  mean- 
ingless half -wild  chant  broken  by  the  clash  of  cymbals 
and  the  boom  of  drums — all  this  set  the  blood  leaping 
in  my  veins.  There  was  a  strange  dizziness  in  my 
head,  and  I  had  an  almost  overpowering  desire  to  fall 
on  my  knees  with  the  Mongols  and  join  in  the  chorus 
of  adoration.  The  subtle  smell  of  burning  incense,  the 
brilliant  colors,  and  the  barbaric  music  were  like  an  in- 
toxicating drink  which  inflamed  the  senses  but  dulled  the 
brain.  It  was  then  that  I  came  nearest  to  understand- 
ing the  religious  fanaticism  of  the  East.  Even  with  a 
background  of  twentieth-century  civilization  I  felt  its 
sensuous  power.  What  wonder  that  it  has  such  a  hold 
on  a  simple,  uneducated  people,  fed  on  superstition  from 
earliest  childhood  and  the  religious  traditions  of  seven 
hundred  years  I 

The  service  ended  abruptly  in  a  roar  of  sound.  Ris- 
ing to  their  feet,  the  people  streamed  into  the  courtyard 
to  whirl  the  prayer  wheels  about  the  temple's  base. 
Each  wheel  is  a  hollow  cylinder  of  varying  size,  standing 
on  end,  and  embellished  with  Tibetan  characters  in  gold. 
The  wheels  are  sometimes  filled  with  thousands  of  slips 
of  paper  upon  which  is  written  a  prayer  or  a  sacred 


74.  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

thought,  and  each  revolution  adds  to  the  store  of  merit 
in  the  future  life. 

The  Mongol  goes  farther  still  in  accumulating  virtue, 
and  every  native  house  in  Urga  is  gay  with  fluttering 
bits  of  cloth  or  paper  on  which  a  prayer  is  written.  Each 
time  the  little  flag  moves  in  the  wind  it  sends  forth  a 
supplication  for  the  welfare  of  the  Mongol's  spirit  in 
the  Buddhistic  heaven.  'Not  only  are  the  prayer  wheels 
found  about  the  temples,  but  they  line  the  streets,  and 
no  visiting  Mongol  need  be  deprived  of  trying  the  virtue 
of  a  new  device  without  going  to  a  place  of  worship. 
He  can  give  a  whirl  or  two  to  half  a  dozen  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  where  he  buys  his  tea  or  sells  his  sheep. 

On  every  hand  there  is  constant  evidence  that  Urga 
is  a  sacred  city.  It  never  can  be  forgotten  even  for  a 
moment.  The  golden  roofs  of  scores  of  temples  give 
back  the  sunlight,  and  the  moaning  chant  of  praying 
lamas  is  always  in  the  air.  Even  in  the  main  street  I 
have  seen  the  prostrate  forms  of  ragged  pilgrims  who 
have  journeyed  far  to  this  Mecca  of  the  lama  faith. 
If  they  are  entering  the  city  for  the  first  time  and  crave 
exceeding  virtue,  they  approach  the  great  temple  on  the  ', 
hill  by  lying  face  down  at  every  step  and  beating  their 
foreheads  upon  the  ground.  Wooden  shrines  of  daz- 
zling whiteness  stand  in  quiet  streets  or  cluster  by  them- 
selves behind  the  temples.  In  front  of  each,  raised 
slightly  at  one  end,  is  a  prayer  board  worn  black  and 
smooth  by  the  prostrated  bodies  of  worshiping  Mongols. 

Although  the  natives  take  such  care  for  the  repose  of  l 
the  spirit  in  after  life,  they  have  a  strong  distaste  for 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     76 

the  body  from  which  the  spirit  has  fled  and  they  consider 
it  a  most  undesirable  thing  to  have  about  the  house.  The 
stigma  is  imposed  even  upon  the  dying.  In  Urga  a 
family  of  Mongols  had  erected  their  yurt  in  the  court- 
yard of  one  of  our  friends.  During  the  summer  the 
young  wife  became  very  ill,  and  when  her  husband  was 
convinced  that  she  was  about  to  die  he  moved  the  poor 
creature  bodily  out  of  the  yvrt.  She  could  die  if  she 
wished,  but  it  must  not  be  inside  his  house. 

The  corpse  itself  is  considered  unclean  and  the  abode 
of  evil  spirits,  and  as  such  must  be  disposed  of  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Sometimes  the  whole  family  will  pack  up 
their  yui't  and  decamp  at  once,  leaving  the  body  where  it 
lies.  More  usually  the  corpse  is  loaded  upon'  a  cart 
which  is  driven  at  high  speed  over  a  bit  of  rough  ground. 
The  body  drops  off  at  some  time  during  the  journey,  but 
the  driver  does  not  dare  look  back  until  he  is  sure  that 
the  unwelcome  burden  is  no  longer  with  him;  otherwise 
he  might  anger  the  spirit  following  the  corpse  and 
thereby  cause  himself  and  his  family  unending  trouble. 
Unlike  the  Chinese,  who  treat  their  dead  with  the  great- 
est respect  and  go  to  enormous  expense  in  the  burial, 
every  Mongol  knows  that  his  coffin  will  be  the  stomachs 
of  dogs,  wolves,  or  birds.  Indeed,  the  Chinese  name  for 
the  raven  is  the  "Mongol's  coffin." 

The  first  day  we  camped  in  Urga,  my  wife  and  Mrs. 
MacCallie  were  walking  beside  the  river.  Only  a  short 
distance  from  our  tent  they  discovered  a  dead  Mongol 
who  had  just  been  dragged  out  of  the  city.    A  pack  of 


76  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

dogs  were  in  the  midst  of  their  feast  and  the  sight  was 
most  unpleasant. 

The  dogs  of  Mongolia  are  savage  almost  beyond  be- 
lief. They  are  huge  black  fellows  like  the  Tibetan  mas- 
tiff, and  their  diet  of  dead  human  flesh  seems  to  have 
given  them  a  contempt  for  living  men.  Every  Mongol 
family  has  one  or  more,  and  it  is  exceedingly  dangerous 
for  a  man  to  approach  a  yurt  or  caravan  unless  he  is  on 
horseback  or  has  a  pistol  ready.  In  Urga  itself  you  will 
probably  be  attacked  if  you  walk  unarmed  through  the 
meat  market  at  night.  I  have  never  visited  Constanti- 
nople, but  if  the  Turkish  city  can  boast  of  more  dogs 
than  Urga,  it  must  be  an  exceedingly  disagreeable  place 
in  which  to  dwell.  Although  the  dogs  live  to  a  large  ex- 
tent upon  human  remains,  they  are  also  fed  by  the 
lamas.  Every  day  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
you  can  see  a  cart  being  driven  through  the  main  street, 
followed  by  scores  of  yelping  dogs.  On  it  are  two  or 
more  dirty  lamas  with  a  great  barrel  from  which  they 
ladle  out  refuse  for  the  dogs,  for  according  to  their 
religious  beliefs  they  accumulate  great  merit  for  them- 
selves if  they  prolong  the  life  of  anything,  be  it  bird, 
beast,  or  insect. 

In  the  river  valley,  just  below  the  Lama  City,  num- 
bers of  dogs  can  always  be  found,  for  the  dead  priests 
usually  are  thrown  there  to  be  devoured.  Dozens  of 
white  skulls  lie  about  in  the  grass,  but  it  is  a  serious 
matter  even  to  touch  one.  I  very  nearly  got  into  trouble 
one  day  by  targeting  my  rifle  upon  a  skull  which  lay 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  away  from  our  tent. 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     77 

The  customs  of  the  Mongols  are  not  all  as  gruesome 
as  those  I  have  described,  yet  Urga  is  essentially  a 
frontier  city  where  life  is  seen  in  the  raw.  Its  natives 
are  a  hard-living  race,  virile  beyond  compare.  Children 
of  the  plains,  they  are  accustomed  to  privation  and  fa- 
tigue.    Their  law  is  the  law  of  the  northland: 

".  .  .  .  That  only  the  Strong  shall  thrive, 

That  surely  the  Weak  shall  perish  and  only  the  Fit  survive." 

In  the  careless  freedom  of  his  magnificent  horseman- 
ship a  Mongol  seems  as  much  an  untamed  creature  of 
the  plains  as  does  the  eagle  itself  which  soars  above  his 
yurt.  Independence  breathes  in  every  movement ;  even 
in  his  rough  good  humor  and  in  the  barbaric  splendor  of 
the  native  dress. 

But  the  little  matter  of  cleanliness  is  of  no  importance 
in  his  scheme  of  life.  When  a  meal  has  been  eaten,  the 
wooden  bowl  is  licked  clean  with  the  tongue ;  it  is  seldom 
washed.  Every  man  and  woman  usually  carries  through 
life  the  bodily  dirt  which  has  accumulated  in  childhood, 
unless  it  is  removed  by  some  accident  or  by  the  wear  of 
years.  One  can  be  morally  certain  that  it  will  never  be 
washed  off  by  design  or  water.  Perhaps  the  native  is 
not  altogether  to  blame,  for,  except  in  the  north,  water 
is  not  abundant.  It  can  be  found  on  the  plains  and  in 
the  Gobi  Desert  only  at  wells  and  an  occasional  pond, 
and  on  the  march  it  is  too  precious  to  be  wasted  in  the 
useless  process  of  bathing.  Moreover,  from  September 
until  May  the  bitter  winds  which  sweep  down  from  the 


78  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Siberian  steppes  furnish  an  unpleasant  temperature  in 
which  to  take  a  bath. 

The  Mongol's  food  consists  almost  entirely  of  mutton, 
cheese,  and  tea.  Like  all  northern  people,  he  needs  an 
abundance  of  fat,  and  sheep  supply  his  wants.  There  is 
always  more  or  less  grease  distributed  about  his  clothes 
and  person,  and  when  Mongols  are  en  masse  the  odor 
of  mutton  and  unwashed  humanity  is  well-nigh  over- 
powering. 

I  must  admit  that  in  morality  the  Mongol  is  but  little 
better  off  than  in  personal  cleanliness.  A  man  may  have 
only  one  lawful  wife,  but  may  keep  as  many  concubines 
as  his  means  allow,  all  of  whom  live  with  the  members 
of  the  family  in  the  single  room  of  the  yurt.  Adultery 
is  openly  practiced,  apparently  without  prejudice  to 
either  party,  and  polyandry  is  not  unusual  in  the  more 
remote  parts  of  the  country. 

The  Mongol  is  unmoral  rather  than  immoral.  He 
lives  like  an  untaught  child  of  nature  and  the  sense 
of  modesty  or  decency,  as  we  conceive  it,  does  not  enter 
into  his  scheme  of  life.  But  the  operation  of  natural 
laws,  which  in  the  lower  animals  are  successful  in  main- 
taining the  species,  is  fatally  impaired  by  the  loose  fam- 
ily relations  which  tend  to  spread  disease.  Unless 
Lamaism  is  abolished  I  can  see  little  hope  for  the  re- 
juvenation of  the  race. 

In  writing  of  Urga's  inhabitants  and  their  way  of 
life  I  am  neglecting  the  city  itself.  I  have  already  told 
of  the  great  temple  on  the  hill  and  its  clustering  lama 
houses  which  overlook  and  dominate  the  river  valley. 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     79 

Its  ornate  roof,  flashing  in  the  sun,  can  be  seen  for 
many  miles,  like  a  religious  beacon  guiding  the  steps  of 
wandering  pilgrims  to  the  Mecca  of  their  faith. 

At  the  near  end  of  the  broad  street  below  the  Lama 
City  is  the  tent  market,  and  just  beyond  it  are  the  black- 
smith shops  where  bridles,  cooking  pots,  tent  pegs,  and 
all  the  equipment  essential  to  a  wandering  life  on  the 
desert  can  be  purchased  in  an  hour — if  you  have  the 
price!  Nothing  is  cheap  in  Urga,  with  the  exception  of 
horses,  and  when  we  began  to  outfit  for  our  trip  on  the 
plains  we  received  a  shock  similar  to  that  which  I  had 
a  month  ago  in  New  York,  when  I  paid  twenty  dollars 
for  a  pair  of  shoes.  We  ought  to  be  hardened  to  it  now, 
but  when  we  were  being  robbed  in  Urga  by  profiteering 
Chinese,  who  sell  flour  at  ten  and  twelve  dollars  a  sack 
and  condensed  milk  at  seventy-five  cents  a  tin,  we  roared 
and  grumbled — and  paid  the  price!  I  vowed  I  would 
never  pay  twenty  dollars  for  a  pair  of  shoes  at  home, 
but  roaring  and  grumbling  is  no  more  effective  in  pro- 
curing shoes  in  New  York  than  it  was  in  obtaining  flour 
and  milk  in  Urga. 

We  paid  in  Russian  rubles,  then  worth  three  cents 
each.  ( In  former  years  a  ruble  equaled  more  than  half 
a  dollar.)  Eggs  were  well-nigh  nonexistent,  except 
those  which  had  made  their  way  up  from  China  over  the 
long  caravan  trail  and  were  guaranteed  to  be  "addled" 
— or  whatever  it  is  that  sometimes  makes  an  egg  an  un- 
pleasant companion  at  the  breakfast  table.  Even  those 
cost  three  rubles  each !  Only  a  few  Russians  own  chick- 
ens in  Urga  and  their  productions  are  well-nigL  "golden 


80  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

eggs,"  for  grain  is  very  scarce  and  it  takes  an  astound- 
ing number  of  rubles  to  buy  a  bushel. 

Fortunately  we  had  sent  most  of  our  supplies  and 
equipment  to  Urga  by  caravan  during  the  winter,  but 
there  were  a  good  many  odds  and  ends  needed  to  fill  our 
last  requirements,  and  we  came  to  know  the  ins  and  outs 
of  the  sacred  city  intimately  before  we  were  ready  to 
leave  for  the  plains.  The  Chinese  shops  were  our  real 
help,  for  in  Urga,  as  everywhere  else  in  the  Orient,  the 
Chinese  are  the  most  successful  merchants.  Some  firms 
have  accumulated  considerable  wealth  and  the  China- 
man does  not  hesitate  to  exact  the  last  cent  of  profit 
when  trading  with  the  Mongols. 

At  the  eastern  end  of  Urga's  central  street,  which  is 
made  picturesque  by  gayly  painted  prayer  wheels  and 
alive  with  a  moving  throng  of  brilliant  horsemen,  are 
the  Custom  House  and  the  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs. 
The  former  is  at  the  far  end  of  an  enormous  compound 
filled  with  caiiiel  caravans  or  loaded  carts.  There  is  a 
more  or  less  useless  wooden  building,  but  the  business 
is  conducted  in  a  large  yurt,  hard  against  the  compound 
wall.  It  was  an  extraordinary  contrast  to  see  a  modern 
filing-cabinet  at  one  end  and  a  telephone  box  on  the  felt- 
covered  framework  of  the  yurt. 

Not  far  beyond  the  Custom  House  is  what  I  believe 
to  be  one  of  the  most  horrible  prisons  in  the  world.  In- 
side a  double  palisade  of  unpeeled  timbers  is  a  space 
about  ten  feet  square  upon  which  open  the  doors  of 
small  rooms,  almost  dark.    In  these  dungeons  are  piled 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     81 

wooden  boxes,  four  feet  long  by  two  and  one-half  feet 
high.    These  eofSns  are  the  prisoners'  cells. 

Some  of  the  poor  wretches  have  heavy  chains  about 
their  necks  and  both  hands  manacled  together.  They 
can  neither  sit  erect  nor  lie  at  full  length.  Their  food, 
when  the  jailer  remembers  to  give  them  any,  is  pushed 
through  a  six-inch  hole  in  the  coffin's  side.  Some  are 
imprisoned  here  for  only  a  few  days  or  weeks;  others 
for  life,  or  for  many  years.  Sometimes  they  lose  the 
use  of  their  limbs,  which  shrink  and  shrivel  away.  The 
agony  of  their  cramped  position  is  beyond  the  power  of 
words  to  describe.  Even  in  winter,  when  the  tempera- 
ture drops,  as  it  sometimes  does,  to  sixty  degrees  below 
zero,  they  are  given  only  a  single  sheepskin  for  covering. 
How  it  is  possible  to  live  in  indescribable  filth,  half-fed, 
well-nigh  frozen  in  winter,  and  suffering  the  tortures  of 
the  damned,  is  beyond  my  ken — only  a  Mongol  could 
live  at  all. 

The  prison  is  not  a  Mongol  invention.  It  was  built 
by  the  Manchus  and  is  an  eloquent  tribute  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  fine  arts  of  cruelty  that  has  never  been  sur- 
passed. 

I  have  given  this  description  of  the  prison  not  to  feed 
morbid  curiosity,  but  to  show  that  Urga,  even  if  it  has 
a  Custom  House,  a  Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs,  motor 
cars,  and  telephones,  is  still  at  heart  a  city  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

In  Urga  we  made  a  delightful  and  most  valuable 
friend  in  the  person  of  Mr.  F.  A.  Larsen.  Most  for- 
eigners speak  of  him  as  "Larsen  of  Mongolia"  and  in- 


82  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

deed  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  think  of  the  country  without 
thinking  of  the  man.  Some  thirty  years  ago  he  rode 
into  Mongolia  and  liked  it.  He  liked  it  so  much,  in  fact, 
that  he  dug  a  well  and  built  a  house  among  the  Tabool 
hills  a  hundred  miles  north  of  Kalgan.  At  first  he  la- 
bored with  his  wife  as  a  missionary,  but  later  he  left 
that  field  to  her  and  took  up  the  work  which  he  loved 
best  in  all  the  world — ^the  buying  and  selling  of  horses. 

During  his  years  of  residence  in  Mongolia  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  horses  have  passed  under  his  appraising 
eyes  and  the  Mongols  respect  his  judgment  as  they  re- 
spect the  man.  I  wish  that  I  might  write  the  story  of 
his  life,  for  it  is  more  interesting  than  any  novel  of  ro- 
mance or  adventure.  In  almost  every  recent  event  of 
importance  to  the  Mongols  Mr.  Larsen's  name  has 
figured.  Time  after  time  he  has  been  sent  as  an  emis- 
sary of  the  Living  Buddha  to  Peking  when  misunder- 
standings or  disturbances  threatened  the  political  peace 
of  Mongolia.  Not  only  does  he  understand  the  psy- 
chology of  the  natives,  but  he  knows  every  hill  and  plain 
of  their  vast  plateau  as  well  as  do  the  desert  nomads. 

For  some  time  he  had  been  in  charge  of  Andersen, 
Meyer's  branch  at  Urga  with  Mr.  E.  W.  Olufsen  and 
we  made  their  house  our  headquarters.  Mr.  Larsen  im- 
mediately undertook  to  obtain  an  outfit  for  our  work 
upon  the  plains.  He  purchased  two  riding  ponies  for 
us  from  Prince  Tze  Tze;  he  borrowed  two  carts  with 
harness  from  a  Russian  friend,  and  bought  another ;  he 
loaned  us  a  riding  pony  for  our  Mongol,  a  cart  horse  of 
his  own,  and  Mr.  Olufsen  contributed  another.     He 


»  »  »  : 

I     »  »  », 

3      t  9    » 

>    9  >  I  >    9 


•^•^■H.MlJA...- 


THE    FRAMEWORK    OF    A    "yURt" 


MONGOL   WOMEN    AXD   A   LAMA 


THE  SACRED  CITY  OF  THE  LIVING  BUDDHA     83 

made  our  equipment  a  personal  matter  and  he  was  never 
too  busy  to  assist  us  in  the  smallest  details.  Moreover, 
we  could  spend  hours  listening  to  the  t)ales  of  his  early- 
life,  for  his  keen  sense  of  humor  made  him  a  delightful 
story-teller.  One  of  the  most  charming  aspects  of  our 
wandering  life  is  the  friends  we  have  made  in  far  corners 
of  the  world,  and  for  none  have  we  a  more  affectionate 
regard  than  for  "Larsen  of  Mongolia." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN 

Our  arrival  in  Urga  was  in  the  most  approved  man- 
ner of  the  twentieth  century.  We  came  in  motor  cars 
with  much  odor  of  gasoline  and  noise  of  horns.  When 
we  left  the  sacred  city  we  dropped  back  seven  hundred 
years  and  went  as  the  Mongols  traveled.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  quite  as  in  the  days  of  Genghis  Khan,  for  we 
had  three  high-wheeled  carts  of  a  Russian  model,  but 
they  were  every  bit  as  springless  and  uncomfortable  as 
the  palanquins  of  the  ancient  emperors. 

Of  course,  we  ourselves  did  not  ride  in  carts.  They 
were  driven  by  our  cook  and  the  two  Chinese  taxider- 
mists, each  of  whom  sat  on  his  own  particular  mound  of 
baggage  with  an  air  of  resignation  and  despondency. 
Their  faces  were  very  long  indeed,  for  the  sudden  tran- 
sition from  the  back  seat  of  a  motor  car  to  a  jolting  cart 
did  not  harmonize  with  their  preconceived  scheme  of 
Mongolian  life.  But  they  endured  it  manfully,  and 
doubtless  it  added  much  to  the  store  of  harrowing  expe- 
rience with  which  they  could  regale  future  audiences  in 
civilized  Peking. 

My  wife  and  I  were  each  mounted  on  a  Mongol  pony. 
Mine  was  called  "Kublai  Khan"  and  he  deserved  the 
name.    Later  I  shall  have  much  to  tell  of  this  wonderful 

84 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN       86 

horse,  for  I  learned  to  love  him  as  one  loves  a  friend  who 
has  endured  the  "ordeal  by  fire"  and  has  not  been  found 
wanting.  My  wife's  chestnut  stallion  was  a  trifle 
smaller  than  Kublai  Khan  and  proved  to  be  a  tricky 
beast  whom  I  could  have  shot  with  pleasure.  To  this 
day  she  carries  the  marks  of  both  his  teeth  and  hoofs, 
and  we  have  no  interest  in  his  future  life.  Kublai  Khan 
has  received  the  reward  of  a  sunlit  stable  in  Peking 
where  carrots  are  in  abundance  and  sugar  is  not  un- 
known. 

Besides  the  three  Chinese  we  had  a  little  Mongol 
priest,  a  yellow  lama  only  eighteen  years  of  age.  We 
did  not  hire  him  for  spiritual  reasons,  but  to  be  our 
guide  and  social  mentor  upon  the  plains.  Of  course, 
we  could  not  speak  Mongol,  but  both  my  wife  and  I 
know  some  Chinese  and  our  cook-boy  Lii  was  possessed 
of  a  species  of  "pidgin  English"  which,  by  using  a 
good  deal  of  imagination,  we  could  understand  at  times. 
Since  our  lama  spoke  fluent  Chinese,  he  acted  as  inter- 
preter with  the  Mongols,  and  we  had  no  difficulty.  It 
is  wonderful  how  much  you  can  do  with  sign  language 
when  you  really  have  to,  especially  if  the  other  fellow 
tries  to  understand.  You  always  can  be  sure  that  the 
Mongols  will  match  your  eff^orts  in  this  respect. 

An  interesting  part  of  our  equipment  was  a  Mongol 
tent  which  Charles  Coltman  had  had  made  for  us  in  Kal- 
gan.  This  is  an  ingenious  adaptation  of  the  ordinary 
wall  tent,  and  is  especially  fitted  for  work  on  the  plains. 
No  one  should  attempt  to  use  any  other  kind.  From  the 
ridgepole  the  sides  curve  down  and  out  to  the  groimd, 


86  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

presenting  a  sloping  surface  to  the  wind  at  every  angle. 
One  corner  can  be  lifted  to  cause  a  draft  through  the 
door  and  an  open  fire  can  be  built  in  the  tent  without 
danger  of  suffocation  from  the  smoke ;  moreover,  it  can 
be  erected  by  a  single  person  in  ten  minutes.  We  had 
an  American  wall  tent  also,  but  found  it  such  a  nuisance 
that  we  used  it  only  during  bad  weather.  In  the  wind 
which  always  blows  upon  the  plains  it  flapped  and  flut- 
tered to  such  a  degree  that  we  could  hardly  sleep. 

As  every  traveler  knows,  the  natives  of  a  country 
usually  have  developed  the  best  possible  clothes  and 
dwellings  for  the  peculiar  conditions  under  which  they 
live.  Just  as  the  Mongol  felt-covered  yurt  and  tent  are 
all  that  can  be  desired,  so  do  they  know  that  fur  and 
leather  are  the  only  clothing  to  keep  them  warm  during 
the  bitter  winter  months. 

In  the  carts  we  had  an  ample  supply  of  flour,  bacon, 
coffee,  tea,  sugar,  and  dried  fruit.  For  meat,  we  de- 
pended upon  our  guns,  of  course,  and  always  had  as 
much  as  could  be  used.  Although  we  did  not  travel  de 
ItuvCj  nevertheless  we  were  entirely  comfortable.  When 
a  man  boasts  of  the  way  in  which  he  discards  even  neces- 
saries in  the  field,  you  can  be  morally  certain  that  he  has 
not  done  much  real  traveling.  "Roughing  it"  does  not 
harmonize  well  with  hard  work.  One  must  accept 
enough  discomforts  under  the  best  conditions  without 
the  addition  of  any  which  can  be  avoided.  Good  health 
is  the  prime  requisite  in  the  field.  Without  it  you  are 
lost.  The  only  way  in  which  to  keep  fit  and  ready  to 
give  every  ounce  of  physical  and  mental  energy  to  the 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN        87 

problems  of  the  day  is  to  sleep  comfortably,  eat  whole- 
some food,  and  be  properly  clothed.  It  is  not  often, 
then,  that  you  will  need  a  doctor.  We  have  not  as  yet 
had  a  physician  on  any  of  our  expeditions,  even  though 
we  have  often  been  very  many  miles  from  the  nearest 
white  men. 

It  never  ceases  to  amuse  me  that  the  insurance  com- 
panies always  cancel  my  accident  policies  as  soon  as  I 
leave  for  the  field.  The  excuse  is  that  I  am  not  a  "good 
risk,"  although  they  are  ready  enough  to  renew  them 
when  I  return  to  New  York.  And  yet  the  average  per- 
son has  a  hundred  times  more  chance  of  being  killed  or 
injured  right  on  Fifth  Avenue  than  do  we  who  live  in 
the  open,  breathing  God's  fresh  air  and  sleeping  under 
the  stars.  My  friend  Stefansson,  the  Arctic  explorer, 
often  says  that  "adventures  are  a  mark  of  incompe- 
tence," and  he  is  doubtless  right.  If  a  man  goes  into  the 
field  with  a  knowledge  of  the  country  he  is  to  visit  and 
with  a  proper  equipment,  he  probably  will  have  very 
few  "adventures."  If  he  has  not  the  knowledge  and 
equipment  he  had  much  better  remain  at  home,  for  he 
will  inevitably  come  to  grief. 

We  learned  from  the  Mongols  that  there  was  a  won- 
derful shooting  ground  three  hundred  miles  southwest 
of  Urga  in  the  country  belonging  to  Sain  Noin  Khan. 
It  was  a  region  backed  by  mountains  fifteen  thousand 
feet  in  height,  inhabited  by  bighorn  sheep  and  ibex ;  and 
antelope  were  reported  to  be  numerous  upon  the  plains 
which  merged  gradually  into  the  sandy  wastes  of  the 
western  Gobi  where  herds  of  wild  horses  (Equus  prje- 


88  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

valsM)  and  wild  asses  {Equus  hemiorms)  could  be 
found. 

Sain  Noin,  one  of  the  four  Mongolian  kings,  had  died 
only  a  short  time  earlier  under  suspicious  circumstances, 
and  his  widow  had  just  visited  the  capital.  Monsieur 
Orlow,  the  Russian  Diplomatic  Agent,  had  written  her 
regarding  our  prospective  visit,  and  through  him  she 
had  extended  to  us  a  cordial  invitation. 

Our  start  from  Urga  was  on  a  particularly  beautiful 
day,  even  for  Mongolia.  The  golden  roof  of  the  great 
white  temple  on  the  hill  blazed  with  light,  and  the  un- 
dulating crest  of  the  Sacred  Mountain  seemed  so  near 
that  we  imagined  we  could  see  the  deer  and  boar  in  its 
parklike  openings.  Our  way  led  across  the  valley  and 
over  the  Tola  River  just  below  the  palace  of  the  Liv- 
ing God.  We  climbed  a  long  hill  and  emerged  on  a  slop- 
ing plain  where  marmots  were  bobbing  in  and  out  of 
their  burrows  like  toy  animals  manipulated  by  a  string. 
Two  great  flocks  of  demoiselle  cranes  were  daintily 
catching  grasshoppers  not  a  hundred  yards  away.  We 
wanted  both  the  cranes  for  dinner  and  the  marmots  for 
specimens,  but  we  dared  not  shoot.  Although  not  ac- 
tually upon  sacred  soil  we  were  in  close  proximity  to 
the  Bogdo-ol  and  a  rifle  shot  might  have  brought  a 
horde  of  fanatical  priests  upon  our  heads.  It  is  best  to 
take  no  chances  with  religious  superstitions,  for  the 
lamas  do  not  wait  to  argue  when  they  are  once  aroused. 

The  first  day  began  most  beautifully,  but  it  ended 
badly  as  all  first  days  are  apt  to  do.  We  met  our 
"Waterloo"  on  a  steep  hill  shortly  after  tiffin,  for  two 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN        89 

of  the  horses  absolutely  refused  to  pull.  The  loads  were 
evidently  too  heavy,  and  the  outlook  for  the  future  was 
not  encouraging.  An  extract  from  my  wife's  journal 
tells  what  we  did  that  afternoon. 

"It  took  two  hours  to  negotiate  the  hill,  and  the  men 
were  almost  exhausted  when  the  last  load  reached  the 
summit.  Ever  since  tifBn  the  sky  had  been  growing 
darker  and  darker,  and  great  masses  of  black  clouds 
gathered  about  the  crest  of  the  Bogdo-ol.  Suddenly  a 
vivid  flash  of  lightning  cut  the  sky  as  though  with  a  flam- 
ing knife,  and  the  rain  came  down  in  a  furious  beat  of  icy 
water.  In  five  minutes  we  were  soaked  and  shivering 
with  cold,  so  when  at  last  we  reached  the  plain  we  turned 
off  the  road  toward  two  Mongol  yurts,  which  rested  be- 
side the  river  a  mile  away  like  a  pair  of  great  white  birds. 

"Roy  and  I  galloped  ahead  over  the  soft,  slushy  grass, 
nearly  blinded  by  the  rain,  and  hobbling  our  horses  out- 
side the  nearest  yurt,  went  inside  with  only  the  formality 
of  a  shout.  The  room  was  so  dark  that  I  could  hardly 
see,  and  the  heavy  smoke  from  the  open  fire  burned  and 
stung  our  eyes.  On  the  floor  sat  a  frowzy-looking 
woman,  blowing  at  the  fire,  and  a  yellow  lama,  his  saucer 
hat  hidden  under  its  waterproof  covering — apparently 
he  was  a  traveler  like  ourselves. 

"The  frowzy  lady  smiled  and  motioned  us  to  sit  down 
on  a  low  couch  beside  the  door.  As  we  did  so,  I  saw  a 
small  face  peering  out  of  a  big  sheepskin  coat  and  two 
black  eyes  staring  at  us  unblinkingly.  It  was  a  little 
Mongol  girl  whose  nap  had  been  disturbed  by  so  many 


90  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

visitors.  She  was  rather  a  pretty  little  thing  and  so 
small — just  a  little  older  than  my  own  baby  in  Peking 
— that  I  wanted  to  play  with  her.  She  was  shy  at  first, 
but  when  I  held  out  a  picture  advertisement  from  a 
package  of  cigarettes  she  gradually  edged  nearer,  en- 
couraged by  her  mother.  Soon  she  was  leaning  on  my 
knee.  Then  without  taking  her  black  eyes  from  my  face, 
she  solemnly  put  one  finger  in  her  mouth  and  jerked  it 
out  with  a  loud  'pop,'  much  to  her  mother's  gratifica- 
tion. But  when  she  decided  to  crawl  up  into  my  lap,  my 
interest  began  to  wane,  for  she  exuded  such  a  concen- 
trated 'essence  of  Mongol'  and  rancid  mutton  fat  that 
I  was  almost  suffocated. 

"Our  hostess  was  busy  stirring  a  thick,  white  soup  in 
a  huge  caldron,  and  by  the  time  the  carts  arrived  every- 
one was  dipping  in  with  their  wooden  bowls.  We 
begged  to  be  excused,  since  we  had  already  had  some 
experience  with  Mongol  soup. 

"The  yurt  really  was  not  a  bad  place  when  we  be- 
came accustomed  to  the  bitter  smoke  and  the  combina- 
tion of  native  odors.  There  were  two  couches,  about 
six  inches  from  the  ground,  covered  with  sheepskins  and 
furs.  Opposite  the  door  stood  a  chest — rather  a  nice 
one — on  top  of  which  was  a  tiny  god  with  a  candle  burn- 
ing before  it,  and  a  photograph  of  the  Hutukhtu." 

We  had  dinner  in  the  yurt,  and  the  boys  slept  there 
while  we  used  our  Mongol  tent.  There  was  no  difficulty 
in  erecting  it  even  in  the  wind  and  rain,  but  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  have  put  up  the  American  wall 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN        91 

tent.  Even  though  it  was  the  fifth  of  June,  there  was 
a  sharp  frost  during  the  night,  and  we  were  thankful 
for  our  fur  sleeping  bags. 

Always  in  Mongolia  after  a  heavy  rain  the  air  is  crys- 
tal-clear, and  we  had  a  delightful  morning  beside  the 
river.  Hundreds  of  demoiselle  cranes  were  feeding  in 
the  meadowlike  valley  bottom  where  the  grass  was  as 
green  as  emeralds.  We  saw  two  of  the  graceful  birds 
standing  on  a  sand  bar  and,  as  we  rode  toward  them, 
they  showed  not  the  slightest  sign  of  fear.  When  we 
were  not  more  than  twenty  feet  away  they  walked  slowly 
about  in  a  circle,  and  the  lama  discovered  two  spotted 
brown  eggs  almost  under  his  pony's  feet.  There  was  no 
sign  of  a  nest,  but  the  eggs  were  perfectly  protected  by 
their  resemblance  to  the  stones. 

Our  way  led  close  along  the  Tola  River,  and  just  be- 
fore tifBn  we  saw  a  line  of  camels  coming  diagonally 
toward  us  from  behind  a  distant  hill.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  that  caravan  in  all  its  barbaric  splendor  as  it 
wound  across  the  vivid  green  plains.  Three  lamas, 
dressed  in  gorgeous  yellow  robes,  and  two,  in  flaming 
red,  rode  ahead  on  ponies.  Then  neck  and  neck, 
mounted  on  enormous  camels,  came  four  men  in  gowns 
of  rich  maroon  and  a  woman  flashing  with  jewels  and 
silver.  Behind  them,  nose  to  tail,  was  the  long,  brown- 
line  of  laden  beasts.  It  was  like  a  painting  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages — like  a  picture  of  the  days  of  Kublai  Khan, 
when  the  Mongol  court  was  the  most  splendid  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  My  wife  and  I  were  fascinated,  for  this 
was  the  Mongolia  of  our  dreams.  *) 


92  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

But  our  second  day  was  not  destined  to  be  one  of  un- 
alloyed happiness,  for  just  after  luncheon  we  reached  a 
bad  stretch  of  road  alternating  between  jagged  rocks 
and  deep  mud  holes.  The  white  horse,  which  was  so 
quickly  exhausted  the  day  before,  gave  up  absolutely 
when  its  cart  became  badly  mired.  Just  then  a  red 
lama  appeared  with  four  led  ponies  and  said  that  one  of 
his  horses  could  extricate  the  cart.  He  hitched  a  tiny 
brown  animal  between  the  shafts,  we  all  put  our  shoul- 
ders to  the  wheels,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  load  was  on 
solid  ground.  We  at  once  offered  to  trade  horses,  and 
by  giving  a  bonus  of  five  dollars  I  became  the  possessor 
of  the  brown  pony. 

But  the  story  does  not  end  there.  Two  months  later 
when  we  had  returned  to  Urga  a  Mongol  came  to  our 
camp  in  great  excitement  and  announced  that  we  had 
one  of  his  horses.  He  said  that  five  animals  had  been 
stolen  from  him  and  that  the  little  brown  pony  for  which 
I  had  traded  with  the  lama  was  one  of  them.  His  proof 
was  incontrovertible  and  according  to  the  law  of  the 
country  I  was  bound  to  give  back  the  animal  and  accept 
the  loss.  However,  a  half  dozen  hard-riding  Mongol 
soldiers  at  once  took  up  the  trail  of  the  lama,  and  the 
chances  are  that  there  will  be  one  less  thieving  priest 
before  the  incident  is  closed. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  a  similarity  of  conditions 
in  western  America  and  in  Mongolia  has  developed 
exactly  the  same  attitude  of  mutual  protection  in  regard 
to  horses.  In  both  countries  horse-stealing  is  considered 
to  be  one  of  the  worst  crimes.    It  is  punishable  by  death 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN        93 

in  Mongolia  or,  what  is  infinitely  worse,  by  a  life  in  one 
of  the  prison  coffins.  Moreover,  the  spirit  of  mutual 
assistance  is  carried  further,  and  several  times  during 
the  summer  when  our  ponies  had  strayed  miles  from  the 
tents  they  were  brought  in  by  passing  Mongols,  or  we 
were  told  where  they  could  be  found. 

Our  camp  the  second  night  was  on  a  beautiful,  grassy 
plateau  beside  a  tiny  stream,  a  tributary  of  the  river. 
We  put  out  a  line  of  traps  for  small  mammals,  but  in  the 
morning  were  disappointed  to  find  only  three  meadow 
mice  (Microtus).  There  were  no  fresh  signs  of  mar- 
mots, hares,  or  other  animals  along  the  river,  and  I  be- 
gan to  suspect  what  eventually  proved  to  be  true,  viz., 
that  the  valley  was  a  favorite  winter  camping  ground 
for  Mongols,  and  that  all  the  game  had  been  killed  or 
driven  far  away.  Indeed,  we  had  hardly  been  beyond 
sight  of  a  yurt  during  the  entire  two  days,  and  great 
flocks  of  sheep  and  goats  were  feeding  on  every  grassy 
meadow. 

But  the  Mongols  considered  cartridges  too  precious 
to  waste  on  birds  and  we  saw  many  different  species. 
The  demoiselle  cranes  were  performing  their  mating 
dances  all  about  us,  and  while  one  was  chasing  a  magpie 
it  made  the  most  amusing  spectacle,  as  it  hopped  and 
flapped  after  the  little  black  and  white  bird  which  kept 
just  out  of  reach. 

Mongolian  skylarks  were  continually  jumping  out  of 
the  grass  from  almost  under  our  horses'  feet  to  soar 
about  our  heads,  flooding  the  air  with  song.  Along  the 
sand  banks  of  the  river  we  saw  many  flocks  of  swan 


94  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

geese  {Cygnopsis  cygnoides).  They  are  splendid  fel- 
lows with  a  broad,  brown  band  down  the  back  of  the 
neck,  and  are  especially  interesting  as  being  the  ances- 
tors of  the  Chinese  domestic  geese.  They  were  not 
afraid  of  horses,  but  left  immediately  if  a  man  on  foot 
approached.  I  killed  half  a  dozen  by  slipping  off  my 
pony,  when  about  two  hundi^ed  yards  away,  and  walking 
behind  the  horses  while  Yvette  rode  boldly  toward  the 
flock,  leading  Kublai  Khan.  Twice  the  birds  fell  across 
the  river,  and  we  had  to  swim  for  them.  My  pony  took 
to  the  water  like  a  duck  and  when  we  had  reached  the 
other  bank  would  arch  his  neck  as  proudly  as  though  he 
had  killed  the  bird  himself.  His  keen  interest  in  sport, 
his  gentleness,  and  his  intelligence  won  my  heart  at  once. 
He  would  let  me  shoot  from  his  back  without  the  slight- 
est fear,  even  though  he  had  never  been  used  as  a  hunting 
pony  by  Prince  Tze  Tze  from  whom  he  had  been  pur- 
chased. 

In  the  ponds  and  among  the  long  marsh  grass  we 
found  the  ruddy  sheldrake  {Casarca  casarca),  and  the 
crested  lapwing  ( Vanellus  vanelliis) .  They  were  like 
old  friends,  for  we  had  met  them  first  in  far  Yiin-nan 
and  on  the  Burma  frontier  during  the  winter  of  1916-17 
whence  they  had  gone  to  escape  the  northern  cold;  now 
they  were  on  their  summer  breeding  grounds.  The  shel- 
drakes glowed  like  molten  gold  when  the  sun  found  them 
in  the  grass,  and  we  could  not  have  killed  the  beautiful 
birds  even  had  we  needed  them  for  food.  Moreover, 
like  the  lapwings,  they  had  a  trusting  simplicity,  a  way 
of  throwing  themselves  on  one's  mercy,  which  was  in- 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN        96 

finitely  appealing.  We  often  hunted  for  the  eggs  of 
both  the  sheldrakes  and  lapwings.  They  must  have  been 
near  by,  we  knew,  for  the  old  birds  would  fly  about  our 
heads  uttering  agonizing  calls,  but  we  never  found  the 
nests. 

I  killed  four  light-gray  geese  with  yellow  bills  and 
legs  and  narrow  brown  bars  across  the  head,  and  a 
broad  brown  stripe  down  the  back  of  the  neck.  I  could 
only  identify  the  species  as  the  bar-headed  goose  of  In- 
dia {Eulabeia  indica) ,  which  I  was  not  aware  ever  trav- 
eled so  far  north  to  breed.  Later  I  found  my 
identification  to  be  correct,  and  that  the  bird  is  an  occa- 
sional visitor  to  Mongolia.  We  saw  only  one  specimen 
of  the  bean  goose  {Anser  fdbalis),  the  common  bird  of 
China,  which  I  had  expected  would  be  there  in  thou- 
sands. There  were  a  few  mallards,  redheads,  and  shov- 
eler  ducks,  and  several  bustards,  besides  half  a  dozen 
species  of  plover  and  shore  birds. 

Except  for  these  the  trip  would  have  been  infinitely 
monotonous,  for  we  were  bitterly  disappointed  in  the 
lack  of  animal  life.  Moreover,  there  was  continual 
trouble  with  the  carts,  and  on  the  third  day  I  had  to  buy 
an  extra  horse.  Although  one  can  purchase  a  riding 
pony  at  any  yurt,  cart  animals  are  not  easy  to  find,  for 
the  Mongols  use  oxen  or  camels  to  draw  most  loads. 
The  one  we  obtained  had  not  been  in  the  shafts  for  more 
than  two  years  and  was  badly  frightened  when  we 
brought  him  near  the  cart.  It  was  a  liberal  education 
to  see  our  Mongol  handle  that  horse!  He  first  put  a 
hobble  on  all  four  legs,  then  he  swung  a  rope  about  the 


S6  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

hind  quarters,  trussed  him  tightly,  and  swung  him  into 
the  shafts.  When  the  pony  was  properly  harnessed,  he 
fastened  the  bridle  to  the  rear  of  the  other  cart  and  drove 
slowly  ahead.  At  first  the  horse  tried  to  kick  and 
plunge,  but  the  hobbles  held  him  fast  and  in  fifteen  min- 
utes he  settled  to  the  work.  Then  the  Mongol  removed 
the  hobbles  from  the  hind  legs,  and  later  left  the  pony 
entirely  free.  He  walked  beside  the  animal  for  a  long 
time,  and  did  not  attempt  to  drive  him  from  the  cart 
for  at  least  an  hour. 

Although  Mongols  seem  unnecessarily  rough  and  al- 
most brutal,  I  do  not  believe  that  any  people  in  the  world 
can  handle  horses  more  expertly.  From  earliest  child- 
hood their  real  home  is  the  back  of  a  pony.  Every  year, 
in  the  spring,  a  children's  race  is  held  at  Urga.  Boys 
and  girls  from  four  to  six  years  old  are  tied  on  horses 
and  ride  at  full  speed  over  a  mile-long  course.  If  a 
child  falls  off  it  receives  but  scant  sympathy  and  is 
strapped  on  again  more  tightly  than  before.  A  Mon- 
gol has  no  respect  whatever  for  a  man  or  woman  who 
cannot  ride,  and  nothing  will  win  his  regard  as  rapidly 
as  expert  horsemanship.  Strangely  enough  the  Mon- 
gols seldom  show  affection  for  their  ponies,  nor  do  they 
caress  them  in  any  way;  consequently,  the  animals  do 
not  enjoy  being  petted  and  are  prone  to  kick  and  bite. 
My  pony,  Kublai  Khan,  was  an  extraordinary  exception 
to  this  rule  and  was  as  affectionate  and  gentle  as  a  kit- 
ten— ^but  there  are  few  animals  like  Kublai  Khan  in 
Mongolia! 

The  ponies  are  small,  of  course,  but  they  are  strong 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  TO  SAIN  NOIN  KHAN        97 

almost  beyond  belief,  and  can  stand  punishment  that 
would  kill  an  ordinary  horse.  The  Mongols  seldom 
ride  except  at  a  trot  or  a  full  gallop,  and  forty  to  fifty 
miles  a  day  is  not  an  unusual  journey.  Moreover,  the 
animals  are  not  fed  grain;  they  must  forage  on  the  plains 
the  year  round.  During  the  winter,  when  the  grass  is 
dry  and  sparse,  they  have  poor  feeding,  but  neverthe- 
less are  able  to  withstand  the  extreme  cold.  They  grow 
a  coat  of  hair  five  or  six  inches  in  length,  and  when 
Kublai  Khan  arrived  in  Peking  after  his  long  journey 
across  the  plains  he  looked  more  like  a  grizzly  bear  than 
a  horse.  He  had  changed  so  completely  from  the  sleek, 
fine-limbed  animal  we  had  known  in  Mongolia  that 
my  wife  was  almost  certain  he  could  not  be  the  same 
pony.  He  had  to  be  taught  to  eat  carrots,  apples,  and 
other  vegetables  and  would  only  sniff  suspiciously  at 
sugar.  But  in  a  very  short  time  he  learned  all  the  tastes 
of  his  city-bred  companions. 

Horses  are  cheap  in  Mongolia,  but  not  extraordinarily 
so.  In  the  spring  a  fair  pony  can  be  purchased  for  from 
thirty  to  sixty  dollars  (silver) ,  and  especially  good  ones 
bring  as  much  as  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  In  the 
fall  when  the  Mongols  are  confronted  with  a  hard  win- 
ter, which  naturally  exacts  a  certain  toll  from  any  herd, 
ponies  sell  for  about  two-thirds  of  their  spring  price. 

In  Urga  we  had  been  led  to  believe  that  the  entire  trip 
to  Sain  Noin  Khan's  village  could  be  done  in  eight  days 
and  that  game  was  plentiful  along  the  trail.  We  had 
already  been  on  the  road  five  days,  making  an  average 
of  twenty-five  miles  at  each  stage,  and  the  natives  as- 


98  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

sured  us  that  it  would  require  at  least  ten  more  days  of 
steady  travel  before  we  could  possibly  arrive  at  our  des- 
tination; if  difficulties  arose  it  might  take  even  longer. 
Moreover,  we  had  seen  only  one  hare  and  one  marmot, 
and  our  traps  had  yielded  virtually  nothing.  It  was 
perfectly  evident  that  the  entire  valley  had  been  de- 
nuded of  animal  life  by  the  Mongols,  and  there  was  little 
prospect  that  conditions  would  change  as  long  as  we  re- 
mained on  such  rich  grazing  grounds. 

It  was  hard  to  turn  back  and  count  the  time  lost,  but 
it  was  certainly  the  wisest  course  for  we  knew  that  there 
was  good  collecting  on  the  plains  south  of  Urga,  al- 
though the  fauna  would  not  be  as  varied  as  at  the  place 
we  had  hoped  to  reach.  The  summer  in  Mongolia  is  so 
short  that  every  day  must  be  made  to  count  if  results 
which  are  worth  the  money  invested  are  to  be  obtained. 

Yvette  and  I  were  both  very  despondent  that  eve- 
ning when  we  decided  it  was  necessary  to  turn  back.  It 
was  one  of  those  nights  when  I  wished  with  all  my  heart 
that  we  could  sit  in  front  of  our  own  camp  fire  without 
the  thought  of  having  to  "make  good"  to  any  one  but 
ourselves.  However,  once  the  decision  was  made,  we 
tried  to  forget  the  past  days  and  determined  to  make  up 
for  lost  time  in  the  future. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS 

On  Monday,  June  16,  we  left  Urga  to  go  south  along 
the  old  caravan  trail  toward  Kalgan.  Only  a  few  weeks 
earlier  we  had  skimmed  over  the  rolling  surface  in 
motor  cars,  crossing  in  one  day  then  as  many  miles  of 
plains  as  our  own  carts  could  do  in  ten.  But  it  had  an- 
other meaning  to  us  now,  and  the  first  night  as  we  sat 
at  dinner  in  front  of  the  tent  and  watched  the  after- 
glow fade  from  the  sky  behind  the  pine-crowned  ridge 
of  the  Bogdo-ol,  we  thanked  God  that  for  five  long 
months  we  could  leave  the  twentieth  century  with  its 
roar  and  rush,  and  live  as  the  Mongols  live;  we  knew 
that  the  days  of  discouragement  had  ended  and  that  we 
could  learn  the  secrets  of  the  desert  life  which  are  yielded 
up  to  but  a  chosen  few. 

Within  twenty-five  miles  of  Urga  we  had  seen  a 
dozen  marmots  and  a  species  of  gopher  (Citellus)  that 
was  new  to  us.  The  next  afternoon  at  two  o'clock  we 
climbed  the  last  long  slope  from  out  the  Tola  River 
drainage  basin,  and  reached  the  plateau  which  stretches 
in  rolling  waves  of  plain  and  desert  to  the  frontier  of 
China  six  hundred  miles  away.  Before  us  three  pools 
of  water  flashed  like  silver  mirrors  in  the  sunlight,  and 
beyond  them,  tucked  away  in  a  sheltered  corner  of  the 


100  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

hills,  stood  a  little  temple  surrounded  by  a  cluster  of 
gray- white  yurts. 

Our  Mongol  learned  that  the  next  water  was  on  the 
far  side  of  a  plain  thirty-five  miles  in  width,  so  we 
camped  beside  the  largest  pond.  It  was  a  beautiful 
spot  with  gently  rolling  hills  on  either  side,  and  in  front, 
a  level  plain  cut  by  the  trail's  white  line. 

As  soon  as  the  tents  were  up  Yvette  and  I  rode  off, 
accompanied  by  the  lama,  carrying  a  bag  of  traps. 
Within  three  hundred  yards  of  camp  we  found  the  first 
marmot.  When  it  had  disappeared  underground  we 
carefully  buried  a  steel  trap  at  the  entrance  of  the  hole 
and  anchored  it  securely  to  an  iron  tent  peg.  With 
rocks  and  earth  we  plugged  all  the  other  openings,  for 
there  are  usually  five  or  six  tunnels  to  every  burrow. 
While  the  work  was  going  on  other  marmots  were 
watching  us  curiously  from  half  a  dozen  mounds,  and 
we  set  nine  traps  before  it  was  time  to  return  for  dinner. 

The  two  Chinese  taxidermists  had  taken  a  hundred 
wooden  traps  for  smaller  mammals,  and  before  dark  we 
inspected  the  places  they  had  found.  Already  one  of 
them  held  a  gray  meadow  vole  (Microtus),  quite  a  dif- 
ferent species  from  those  which  had  been  caught  along 
the  Tola  River,  and  Yvette  discovered  one  of  the  larger 
traps  dragged  halfway  into  a  hole  with  a  baby  marmot 
safely  caught.  He  was  only  ten  inches  long  and  cov- 
ered with  soft  yellow-white  fur. 

Shortly  after  daylight  the  next  morning  the  lama 
came  to  our  tent  to  announce  that  there  was  a  marmot 
in  one  of  the  traps.    The  boy  was  as  excited  as  a  child 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAIN^,  i    fi;';  '.ICOV. 

of  ten  and  had  been  up  at  dawn.  When  we  were  dressed 
we  followed  the  Mongol  to  the  first  burrow  where  a  fine 
marmot  was  securely  caught  by  the  hind  leg.  A  few 
yards  away  we  had  another  female,  and  the  third  trap 
was  pulled  far  into  the  hole.  A  huge  male  was  at  the 
other  end,  but  he  had  twisted  his  body  halfway  around 
a  curve  in  the  tunnel  and  by  pulling  with  all  our  strength 
the  Mongol  and  I  could  not  move  him  a  single  inch. 
Finally  we  gave  up  and  had  to  dig  him  out.  He  had 
given  a  wonderful  exhibition  of  strength  for  so  small  an 
animal. 

It  was  especially  gratifying  to  catch  these  marmots  so 
easily,  for  we  had  been  told  in  Urga  that  the  Mongols 
could  not  trap  them.  I  was  at  a  loss  to  understand 
why,  for  they  are  closely  related  to  the  "woodchucks" 
of  America  with  which  every  country  boy  is  familiar. 
Later  I  learned  the  reason  for  the  failure  of  the  natives. 
In  the  Urga  market  we  saw  some  double-spring  traps 
exactly  like  those  of  ours,  but  when  I  came  to  examine 
them  I  found  they  had  been  made  in  Russia,  and  the 
springs  were  so  weak  that  they  were  almost  useless. 
These  were  the  only  steel  traps  which  the  Mongols  had 
ever  seen. 

The  marmots  (Marmota  robusta)  were  supposed  to 
be  responsible  for  the  spread  of  the  pneumonia  plague 
which  swept  into  northern  China  from  Manchuria  a  few 
years  ago;  but  I  understand  from  physicians  of  the 
Rockefeller  Foundation  in  Peking,  who  especially 
investigated  the  disease,  that  the  animal's  connection 
with  it  is  by  no  means  satisfactorily  determined. 


.10ft; .;;;':?;      ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

The  inarmots  hibernate  during  the  winter,  and  retire 
to  their  burrows  early  in  October,  not  to  emerge  until 
April.  When  they  first  come  out  in  the  spring  their  fur 
is  bright  yellow,  and  the  animals  contrast  beautifully 
with  the  green  grass.  After  the  middle  of  June  the 
yellow  fur  begins  to  slip  off  in  patches,  leaving  exposed 
the  new  coat,  which  is  exceedingly  short  and  is  mouse- 
gray  in  color.  Then,  of  course,  the  skins  are  useless  for 
commercial  purposes.  As  the  summer  progresses  the 
fur  grows  until  by  September  first  it  has  formed  a  long, 
soft  coat  of  rich  gray-brown  which  is  of  considerable 
economic  value.  The  skins  are  shipped  to  Europe  and 
America  and  during  the  past  winter  (1919-1920)  were 
especially  popular  as  linings  for  winter  coats. 

We  had  an  opportunity  to  see  how  quickly  the  de- 
mand in  the  great  cities  reaches  directly  to  the  center  of 
production  thousands  of  miles  away.  When  we  went  to 
Urga  in  May  prime  marmot  skins  were  worth  thirty 
cents  each  to  the  Mongols.  Early  in  October,  when  we 
returned,  the  hunters  were  selling  the  same  skins  for 
one  dollar  and  twenty- five  cents  apiece. 

The  natives  always  shoot  the  animals.  When  a  Mon- 
gol has  driven  one  into  its  burrow,  he  lies  quietly  beside 
the  hole  waiting  for  the  marmot  to  appear.  It  may  be 
twenty  minutes  or  even  an  hour,  but  the  Oriental  pa- 
tience takes  little  note  of  time.  Finally  a  yellow  head 
emerges  and  a  pair  of  shining  eyes  glance  quickly  about 
in  every  direction.  Of  course,  they  see  the  Mongol  but 
he  looks  only  like  a  mound  of  earth,  and  the  marmot 
raises  itself  a  few  inches  higher.     The  hunter  lies  as 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  103 

motionless  as  a  log  of  wood  until  the  animal  is  well  out 
of  its  burrow — ^then  he  shoots. 

The  Mongols  take  advantage  of  the  marmot's  curi- 
osity in  an  amusing  and  even  more  effective  way.  With 
a  dogskin  tied  to  his  saddle  the  native  rides  over  the 
plain  until  he  reaches  a  marmot  colony.  He  hobbles  his 
pony  at  a  distance  of  three  or  four  hundred  yards,  gets 
down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  throws  the  dogskin 
over  his  shoulders.  He  crawls  slowly  toward  the  nearest 
animal,  now  and  then  stopping  to  bark  and  shake  his 
head.  In  an  instant,  the  marmot  is  all  attention.  He 
jumps  up  and  down  whistling  and  barking,  but  never 
venturing  far  from  the  opening  of  his  burrow. 

As  the  pseudo-dog  advances  there  seems  imminent 
danger  that  the  fat  little  body  will  explode  from  curi- 
osity and  excitement.  But  suddenly  the  "dog"  col- 
lapses in  the  strangest  way  and  the  marmot  raises  on 
the  very  tips  of  his  toes  to  see  what  it  is  all  about.  Then 
there  is  a  roar,  a  flash  of  fire  and  another  skin  is  added 
to  the  millions  which  have  already  been  sent  to  the  sea- 
coast  from  outer  Mongolia. 

Mr.  Mamen  often  spoke  of  an  extraordinary  dance 
which  he  had  seen  the  marmots  perform,  and  when  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  MacCallie  returned  to  Kalgan  they  saw  it  also. 
We  were  never  fortunate  enough  to  witness  it.  Mac 
said  that  two  marmots  stood  erect  on  their  hind  legs, 
grasping  each  other  with  their  front  paws,  and  danced 
slowly  about  exactly  as  though  they  were  waltzing.  He 
agreed  with  Mamen  that  it  was  the  most  extraordinary 
and  amusing  thing  he  had  ever  seen  an  animal  do.    I 


104i  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

can  well  believe  it,  for  the  marmots  have  many  curious 
habits  which  would  repay  close  study.  The  dance  could 
hardly  be  a  mating  performance  since  Mac  saw  it  in 
late  May  and  by  that  time  the  young  had  already  been 
born. 

One  morning  at  the  "Marmot  Camp,"  as  we  named 
the  one  where  we  first  began  real  collecting,  Yvette  saw 
six  or  seven  young  animals  on  top  of  a  mound  in  the 
green  grass.  We  went  there  later  with  a  gun  and  found 
the  little  fellows  playing  like  kittens,  chasing  each  other 
about  and  rolling  over  and  over.  It  was  hard  to  make 
myself  bring  tragedy  into  their  lives,  but  we  needed 
them  for  specimens.  A  group  showing  an  entire  mar- 
mot family  would  be  interesting  for  the  Museum;  espe- 
cially so  in  view  of  their  reported  connection  with  the 
pneumonic  plague.  We  collected  a  dozen  others  before 
the  summer  was  over  to  show  the  complete  transition 
from  the  first  yellow  coat  to  the  gray-brown  of  winter. 

Like  most  rodents,  the  marmots  grow  rapidly  and 
have  so  many  young  in  every  litter  that  they  will  not 
soon  be  exterminated  in  Mongolia  unless  the  native 
hunters  obtain  American  steel  traps.  Even  then  it 
would  take  some  years  to  make  a  really  alarming  impres- 
sion upon  the  millions  which  spread  over  all  the  plains 
of  northern  Mongolia  and  Manchuria. 

Since  these  marmots  are  a  distinctly  northern  animal 
they  are  a  great  help  in  determining  the  life  zones  of 
this  part  of  Asia.  We  found  that  their  southern  limit 
is  at  Turin,  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  from 
Urga.    A  few  scattered  families  live  there,  but  the  real 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  106 

marmot  country  begins  about  twenty-five  miles  farther 
north. 

The  first  hunting  camp  was  eighty  miles  south  of 
Urga,  after  we  had  passed  a  succession  of  low  hills  and 
reached  what,  in  prehistoric  times,  was  probably  a  great 
lake  basin.  When  our  tents  were  pitched  beside  the 
well  they  seemed  pitifully  small  in  the  vastness  of  the 
plain.  The  land  rolled  in  placid  waves  to  the  far  hori- 
zon on  every  hand.  It  was  like  a  calm  sea  which  is  dis- 
turbed only  by  the  lazy  progress  of  the  ocean  swell. 
Two  yurtSj  like  the  sails  of  hull-down  ships,  showed 
black  against  the  sky-rim  where  it  met  the  earth.  The 
plain  itself  seemed  at  first  as  flat  as  a  table,  for  the 
swells  merged  indistinguishably  into  a  level  whole.  It 
was  only  when  approaching  horsemen  dipped  for  a  little 
out  of  sight  and  the  depressions  swallowed  them  up  that 
we  realized  the  unevenness  of  the  land. 

Camp  was  hardly  made  before  our  Mongol  neighbors 
began  to  pay  their  formal  calls.  A  picturesque  fellow, 
blazing  with  color,  would  dash  up  to  our  tent  at  a  full 
gallop,  slide  off  and  hobble  his  pony  almost  in  a  single 
motion.  With  a  "sai  bind"  of  greeting  he  would  squat 
in  the  door,  produce  his  bottle  of  snuff  and  offer  us  a 
pinch.  There  was  a  quiet  dignity  about  these  plains 
dwellers  which  was  wonderfully  appealing.  They  were 
seldom  unduly  curious,  and  when  we  indicated  that  the 
visit  was  at  an  end,  they  left  at  once. 

Sometimes  they  brought  bowls  of  curded  milk,  or 
great  lumps  of  cheese  as  presents,  and  in  return  we  gave 
cigarettes  or  now  and  then  a  cake  of  soap.    Having  been 


106  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

told  in  Urga  that  soap  was  especially  appreciated  by  the 
Mongols,  I  had  brought  a  supply  of  red,  blue,  and  green 
cakes  which  had  a  scent  even  more  wonderful  than  the 
color,  I  can't  imagine  why  they  like  it,  for  it  is  care- 
fully put  away  and  never  used. 

Strangely  enough,  the  Mongols  have  no  word  for 
"thank  you"  other  than  ''sai"  (good),  but  when  they 
wish  to  express  approbation,  and  usually  when  saying 
"good-by,"  they  put  up  the  thumb  with  the  fingers 
closed.  In  Yiin-nan  and  eastern  Tibet  we  noted  the 
same  custom  among  the  aboriginal  tribesmen.  I  won- 
der if  it  is  merely  a  coincidence  that  in  the  gladiatorial 
contests  of  ancient  Rome  "thumbs  up"  meant  mercy  or 
approval ! 

The  Mongols  told  us  that  in  the  rolling  ground  to  the 
east  of  camp  we  could  surely  find  antelope.  The  first 
morning  my  wife  and  I  went  out  alone.  We  trotted 
steadily  for  an  hour,  making  for  the  summit  of  a  rise 
seven  or  eight  miles  from  camp.  Yvette  held  the  ponies, 
while  I  sat  down  to  sweep  the  country  with  my  glasses. 
Directly  in  front  of  us  two  small  valleys  converged  into 
a  larger  one,  and  almost  immediately  I  discovered  half 
a  dozen  orange-yellow  forms  in  its  very  bottom  about 
two  miles  away.  They  were  antelope  quietly  feeding. 
In  a  few  moments  I  made  out  two  more  close  together, 
and  then  four  off  at  the  right.  After  my  wife  had  found 
them  with  her  glasses  we  sat  down  to  plan  the  stalk. 

It  was  obvious  that  we  should  try  to  cross  the  two 
small  depressions  which  debouched  into  the  main  valley 
and  approach  from  behind  the  hill  crest  nearest  to  the 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  107 

gazelles.  We  trotted  slowly  across  the  gully  while  the 
antelope  were  in  sight,  and  then  swung  around  at  full 
gallop  under  the  protection  of  the  rising  ground.  We 
came  up  just  opposite  to  the  herd  and  dismounted,  but 
were  fully  six  hundred  yards  away.  Suddenly  one  of 
those  impulses  which  the  hunter  never  can  explain  sent 
them  off  like  streaks  of  yellow  light,  but  they  turned  on 
the  opposite  hillside,  slowed  down,  and  moved  uncer- 
tainly up  the  valley. 

Much  to  our  surprise  four  of  the  animals  detached 
themselves  from  the  others  and  crossed  the  depression 
in  our  direction.  When  we  saw  that  they  were  really 
coming  we  threw  ourselves  into  the  saddles  and  galloped 
forward  to  cut  them  off.  Instantly  the  antelope  in- 
creased their  speed  and  literally  flew  up  the  hill  slope. 
I  shouted  to  Yvette  to  watch  the  holes  and  shook  the 
reins  over  Kublai  Khan's  neck.  Like  a  bullet  he  was 
off.  I  could  feel  his  great  muscles  flowing  between  my 
knees  but  otherwise  there  seemed  hardly  a  motion  of 
his  body  in  the  long,  smooth  run.  Standing  straight  up 
in  the  stirrups,  I  glanced  back  at  my  wife  who  was  sit- 
ting her  chestnut  stallion  as  lightly  as  a  butterfly.  Hat 
gone,  hair  streaming,  the  thrill  of  it  all  showed  in  every 
hne  of  her  body.  She  was  running  a  close  second,  almost 
at  my  side.  I  saw  a  marmot  hole  flash  by.  A  second 
death  trap  showed  ahead  and  I  swung  Kublai  Khan  to 
the  right.  Another  and  another  followed,  but  the  pony 
leaped  them  like  a  cat.  The  beat  of  the  fresh,  clean  air ; 
the  rush  of  the  splendid  horse;  the  sight  of  the  yellow 
forms  fleeing  like  wind-blown  ribbons  across  our  path — 


108  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

all  this  set  me  mad  with  excitement  and  a  wild  exhilara- 
tion. Suddenly  I  realized  that  I  was  yelling  like  an 
Indian.    Yvette,  too,  was  screaming  in  sheer  delight. 

The  antelope  were  two  hundred  yards  away  when  I 
tightened  on  the  reins.  Kublai  Khan  stiffened  and 
stopped  in  twenty  yards.  The  first  shot  was  low  and  to 
the  left,  but  it  gave  the  range.  At  the  second,  the  rear- 
most animal  stumbled,  recovered  itself,  and  ran  wildly 
about  in  a  circle.  I  missed  him  twice,  and  he  disap- 
peared over  a  little  hill.  Leaping  into  the  saddle,  we 
tore  after  the  wounded  animal.  As  we  thundered  over 
the  rise  I  heard  my  wife  screaming  frantically  and  saw 
her  pointing  to  the  right  where  the  antelope  was  lying 
down.  There  was  just  one  more  shell  in  the  gun  and  my 
pockets  were  empty.  I  fired  again  at  fifty  yards  and 
the  gazelle  rolled  over,  dead. 

Leading  our  horses,  Yvette  and  I  walked  up  to  the 
beautiful  orange-yellow  form  lying  in  the  fresh,  green 
grass.  We  both  saw  its  horns  in  the  same  instant  and 
hugged  each  other  in  sheer  dehght.  At  this  time  of  the 
year  the  bucks  are  seldom  with  the  does  and  then  only 
in  the  largest  herds.  This  one  was  in  full  pelage,  spot- 
less and  with  the  hair  unworn.  Moreover,  it  had  finer 
horns  than  any  other  which  we  killed  during  the  entire 
trip. 

Kublai  Khan  looked  at  the  dead  animal  and  arched 
his  neck,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Yes,  I  ran  him  down.  He 
had  to  quit  when  I  really  got  started."  My  wife  held 
the  pony's  head,  while  I  hoisted  the  antelope  to  his  back 
and  strapped  it  behind  the  saddle.    He  watched  the  pro- 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  109 

ceedings  interestedly  but  without  a  tremor,  and  even 
when  I  mounted,  he  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to 
the  head  dangling  on  his  flanks.  Thereby  he  showed 
that  he  was  a  very  exceptional  pony.  In  the  weeks 
which  followed  he  proved  it  a  hundred  times,  and  I  came 
to  love  him  as  I  have  never  loved  another  animal. 

Yvette  and  I  trotted  slowly  back  to  camp,  thrilled 
with  the  excitement  of  the  wild  ride.  We  began  to  real- 
ize that  we  were  lucky  to  have  escaped  without  broken 
necks.  The  race  taught  us  never  again  to  attempt  to 
guide  our  ponies  away  from  the  marmot  holes  which 
spotted  the  plains,  for  the  horses  could  see  them  better 
than  we  could  and  all  their  lives  had  known  that  they 
meant  death. 

That  morning  was  our  initiation  into  what  is  the  finest 
sport  we  have  ever  known.  Hunting  from  a  motor  car 
is  undeniably  exciting  at  first,  but  a  real  sportsman  can 
never  care  for  it  very  long.  The  antelope  does  not  have 
a  chance  against  gas  and  steel  and  a  long-range  rifle. 
On  horseback  the  conditions  are  reversed.  An  antelope 
can  run  twice  as  fast  as  the  best  horse  living.  It  can 
see  as  far  as  a  man  with  prism  binoculars.  All  the  odds 
are  in  the  animal's  favor  except  two — its  fatal  desire  to 
run  in  a  circle  about  the  pursuer,  and  the  use  of  a  high- 
power  rifle.  But  even  then  an  antelope  three  hundred 
yards  away,  going  at  a  speed  of  fifty  miles  an  hour,  is 
not  an  easy  target. 

Of  course,  the  majority  of  sportsmen  will  say  that  it 
cannot  be  done  with  any  certainty — ^until  they  go  to 
Mongolia  and  do  it  themselves!    But,  as  I  remarked  in 


110  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

a  previous  chapter,  conditions  on  the  plains  are  so  un- 
usual that  shooting  in  other  parts  of  the  world  is  no  cri- 
terion. After  one  gets  the  range  of  an  animal  which, 
like  the  antelope,  has  a  smooth,  even  run,  it  is  not  so 
difficult  to  hit  as  one  might  imagine.  Practice  is  the 
great  essential.  At  the  beginning  I  averaged  one  an- 
telope to  every  eight  cartridges,  but  later  my  score  was 
one  to  three. 

We  spent  the  afternoon  at  the  new  camp,  setting 
traps  and  preparing  for  the  days  to  come — days  in 
which  we  knew,  from  long  experience,  we  would  have 
every  waking  moment  full  of  work.  The  nights  were 
shortening  rapidly,  and  the  sun  did  not  dip  below  the 
rim  of  our  vast,  flat  world  until  half  past  seven.  Then 
there  was  an  hour  of  delightful,  lingering  twilight,  when 
the  stars  began  to  show  in  tiny  points  of  light ;  by  nine 
o'clock  the  brooding  silence  of  the  Mongolian  night  had 
settled  over  all  the  plain. 

Daylight  came  at  four  o'clock,  and  before  the  sun 
rose  we  had  finished  breakfast.  Our  traps  held  five 
marmots  and  a  beautiful  golden-yellow  polecat  (Mus- 
tela) .  I  have  never  seen  such  an  incarnation  of  fury  as 
this  animal  presented.  It  might  have  been  the  original 
of  the  Chinese  dragon,  except  for  its  small  size.  Its 
long,  slender  body  twisted  and  turned  with  incredible 
swiftness,  every  hair  was  bristling,  and  its  snarling  little 
face  emitted  horrible  squeaks  and  spitting  squeals.  It 
seemed  to  be  cursing  us  in  every  language  of  the  pole- 
cat tribe. 

The  fierce  little  beast  was  evidently  bent  upon  a  night 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  111 

raid  on  a  marmot  family.  We  could  imagine  easily  into 
what  terror  the  tiny  demon  would  throw  a  nest  of  mar- 
mots comfortably  snuggled  together  in  the  bottom  of 
their  burrow.  Probably  it  would  be  most  interested  in 
the  babies,  and  undoubtedly  would  destroy  every  one 
within  a  few  moments.  All  the  weasel  family,  to  which 
the  polecat  belongs,  kill  for  the  pure  joy  of  killing,  and 
in  China  one  such  animal  will  entirely  depopulate  a  hen- 
roost in  a  single  night. 

At  six  o'clock  Yvette  and  I  left  camp  with  the  lama 
and  rode  northeast.  The  plain  swept  away  in  long, 
grassy  billows,  and  at  every  rise  I  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment to  scan  the  horizon  with  my  glasses.  Within  half 
an  hour  we  discovered  a  herd  of  antelope  six  or  seven 
hundred  yards  away.  They  saw  us  instantly  and  trotted 
nervously  about,  staring  in  our  direction. 

Dropping  behind  the  crest  of  the  rise,  I  directed  the 
lama  to  ride  toward  them  from  behind  while  we  swung 
about  to  cut  them  off.  He  was  hardly  out  of  sight  when 
we  heard  a  snort  and  a  rush  of  pounding  hoofs.  With  a 
shout  to  Yvette  I  loosened  the  reins  over  Kublai  Khan's 
neck,  and  he  shot  forward  like  a  yellow  arrow.  Yvette 
was  close  beside  me,  leaning  far  over  her  pony's  neck. 
We  headed  diagonally  toward  the  herd,  and  they  grad- 
ually swung  toward  us  as  though  drawn  by  a  powerful 
magnet.  On  we  went,  down  into  a  hollow  and  up  again 
on  its  slope.  We  could  not  spare  the  horses  for  the  ante- 
lope were  already  over  the  crest  and  lost  to  view,  but 
our  horses  took  the  hill  at  full  speed,  and  from  the  sum- 


11«  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

mit  we  could  see  the  herd  fairly  on  our  course,  three 
hundred  yards  away. 

Kublai  Khan  braced  himself  like  a  polo  pony  when 
he  felt  the  pressure  of  my  knees,  and  I  opened  fire  al- 
most under  his  nose.  At  the  crack  of  the  rifle  there  was 
a  spurt  of  brown  dust  near  the  leading  animal.  "High 
and  to  the  left,"  shouted  Yvette,  and  I  held  a  little 
lower  for  the  second  trial.  The  antelope  dropped  like  a 
piece  of  white  paper,  shot  through  the  neck.  I  paced  the 
distance  and  found  it  to  be  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
seven  yards.  It  seemed  a  very  long  shot  then,  but  later 
I  found  that  almost  none  of  my  antelope  were  killed  at 
less  than  three  hundred  yards. 

As  I  came  up  to  Kublai  Khan  with  the  dead  animal,  I 
accidentally  struck  him  on  the  flank  with  my  rifle  in 
such  a  way  that  he  was  badly  frightened.  He  galloped 
off,  and  Yvette  had  a  hard  chase  before  he  finally  al- 
lowed her  to  catch  him.  Had  I  been  alone  I  should 
probably  have  had  a  long  walk  to  camp. 

It  taught  us  never  to  hunt  without  a  companion,  if  it 
could  possibly  be  avoided.  If  your  horse  runs  away,  you 
may  be  left  many  miles  from  water,  with  rather  serious 
consequences.  I  think  there  is  nothing  which  makes  me 
feel  more  helpless  than  to  be  alone  on  the  plains  without 
a  horse.  Foi  miles  and  miles  there  is  only  the  rolling 
grassland  or  the  wide  sweep  of  desert,  with  never  a 
house  or  tree  to  break  the  low  horizon.  It  seems  so 
futile  to  walk,  your  own  legs  carry  you  so  slowly  and 
such  a  pitifully  short  distance,  in  these  vast  spaces. 

To  be  left  alone  in  a  small  boat  on  the  open  sea  is 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  113 

exactly  similar.  You  feel  so  very,  very  small  and  you 
realize  then  what  an  insignificant  part  of  nature  you 
really  are.  I  have  felt  it,  too,  amid  vast  mountains  when 
I  have  been  toiling  up  a  peak  which  stretched  thousands 
of  feet  above  me  with  others  rearing  tljeir  majestic 
forms  on  every  side.  Then,  nature  seems  almost  alive 
and  full  of  menace;  something  to  be  fought  and  con- 
quered by  brain  and  will. 

Early  in  our  work  upon  the  plains  we  learned  how 
easy  it  is  to  lose  one's  way.  The  vast  sea  of  land  seems 
absolutely  flat,  but  in  reality  it  is  a  gently  rolling  surface 
full  of  slopes  and  hollows,  every  one  of  which  looks  ex- 
actly like  the  others.  But  after  a  time  we  developed  a 
land  sense.  The  Mongols  all  have  it  to  an  extraordinary 
degree.  We  could  drop  an  antelope  on  the  plain  and 
leave  it  for  an  hour  or  more.  With  a  quick  glance  about 
our  lama  would  fix  the  place  in  his  mind,  and  dash  off 
on  a  chase  which  might  carry  us  back  and  forth  toward 
every  point  of  the  compass.  When  it  was  time  to  re- 
turn, he  would  head  his  pony  unerringly  for  that  single 
spot  on  the  plain  and  take  us  back  as  straight  as  the 
flight  of  an  arrow. 

At  first  it  gave  him  unceasing  enjoyment  when  we 
became  completely  lost,  but  in  a  very  short  time  we 
learned  to  note  the  position  of  the  sun,  the  character  of 
the  ground,  and  the  direction  of  the  wind.  Then  we 
began  to  have  more  confidence  in  ourselves.  But  only 
by  years  of  training  can  one  hope  even  to  approximate 
the  Mongols.  They  have  been  born  and  reared  upon 
the  plains,  and  have  the  inheritance  of  unknown  genera- 


114  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

tions  whose  very  life  depended  upon  their  ability  to  come 
and  go  at  will.  To  them,  the  hills,  the  sun,  the  grass, 
the  sand — all  have  become  the  street  signs  of  the  desert. 

In  the  afternoon  of  our  second  day  I  remained  at  the 
tents  to  measure  specimens,  while  Yvette  and  the  lama 
rode  out  toward  the  scene  of  our  morning  hunt  to  locate 
an  antelope  which  one  of  our  Mongol  neighbors  had  re- 
ported dead  not  far  away.  At  six  o'clock  they  came  gal- 
loping back  with  the  news  that  there  were  two  gazelles 
within  three  miles  of  camp.  I  saddled  Kublai  Khan  and 
left  with  them  at  once.  Twenty  minutes  of  steady  trot- 
ting brought  us  to  the  summit  of  a  slope,  where  we  could 
see  the  animals  quietly  feeding  not  five  hundred  yards 
away. 

It  was  just  possible  to  stalk  them  for  a  long-range 
shot,  and  slipping  off  my  pony,  I  flattened  out  upon 
the  ground.  On  hands  and  knees,  and  sometimes  at  full 
length,  I  wormed  my  way  through  the  grass  for  one 
hundred  yards.  The  cover  ended  there  and  I  must  shoot 
or  come  into  full  view  of  the  gazelles.  They  were  so  far 
away  that  the  front  sight  entirely  covered  the  animals, 
and  to  increase  the  difficulty,  both  were  walking  slowly. 
The  first  bullet  struck  low  and  to  the  right,  but  the 
antelope  only  jumped  and  stared  fixedly  in  my  direc- 
tion ;  at  the  second  shot  one  went  down.  The  other  ani- 
mal dashed  away  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  although 
I  sent  a  bullet  after  its  white  rump-patch,  the  shot  was 
hopeless. 

The  antelope  I  had  knocked  over  got  to  its  feet  and 
tried  desperately  to  get  away,  but  the  lama  leaped  on 


THE  LURE  OF  THE  PLAINS  115 

his  pony  and  caught  it  by  one  hind  leg.  My  automatic 
pistol  was  not  in  working  order,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
knife  the  poor  beast — a  job  which  I  hate  like  poison. 
The  lama  walked  away  a  dozen  yards  and  covered  his 
face  with  the  sleeve  of  his  gown.  It  is  against  the  laws 
of  the  Buddhist  religion  to  take  the  life  of  any  animal  or 
even  to  see  it  done,  although  there  are  no  restrictions  as 
to  eating  flesh. 

With  a  blanket  the  Mongol  made  a  seat  for  himself 
on  his  pony's  haunches,  and  threw  the  antelope  across 
his  saddle ;  then  we  trotted  back  to  camp  into  the  painted 
western  sky,  with  the  cool  night  air  bringing  to  us  the 
scent  of  newborn  grass.  We  would  not  have  exchanged 
our  lot  that  night  with  any  one  on  earth. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN 

After  ten  days  we  left  the  "Antelope  Camp"  to  visit 
the  Turin  plain  where  we  had  seen  much  game  on  the 
way  to  Urga.  One  by  one  our  Mongol  neighbors  rode 
up  to  say  "farewell,"  and  each  to  present  us  with  a  silk 
scarf  as  a  token  of  friendship  and  good  will.  We  re- 
ceived an  invitation  to  stop  for  tea  at  the  yurt  of  an  old 
man  who  had  manifested  an  especial  interest  in  us,  but 
it  was  a  very  dirty  yurt,  and  the  preparations  for  tea 
were  so  uninviting  that  we  managed  to  exit  gi-acefully 
before  it  was  finally  served. 

Yvette  photographed  the  entire  family  including  half 
a  dozen  dogs,  a  calf,  and  two  babies,  much  to  their  en- 
jojrment.  When  we  rode  oJ0F,  our  hands  were  heaped 
with  cheese  and  slabs  of  mutton  which  were  discarded 
as  soon  as  we  had  dropped  behind  a  slope.  Mongol  hos- 
pitality is  whole-souled  and  generously  given,  but  one 
must  be  very  hungry  to  enjoy  their  food. 

A  day  and  a  half  of  traveling  was  uneventful,  for 

herds  of  sheep  and  horses  indicated  the  presence  of  yurts 

among  the  hills.    Game  will  seldom  remain  where  there 

are  Mongols.     Although  it  was  the  first  of  July,  we 

found  a  heavy  coating  of  ice  on  the  lower  sides  of  a  deep 

well.    The  water  was  about  fifteen  feet  below  the  level 

ne 


^c     ''c    c'c''' 


• 

^^^^■"t^^V  -'         ^^^ 

■  ml   ^ 

^^■|i^;^^9|HK^ 

• 

^^^^^^k^4B^^^^^^E^%IhH  ^ 

HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  117 

of  the  plain,  and  the  ice  would  probably  remain  all  sum- 
mer. Moreover,  it  is  said  that  the  wells  never  freeze 
even  during  the  coldest  winter. 

The  changes  of  temperature  were  more  rapid  than  in 
any  other  country  in  which  I  have  ever  hunted.  It  was 
hot  during  the  day — about  85 ""  Fahrenheit — but  the  in- 
stant the  sun  disappeared  we  needed  coats,  and  otir  fur 
sleeping  bags  were  always  acceptable  at  night. 

We  were  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Urga  and 
were  still  going  slowly  south,  when  we  had  our  next  real 
hunting  camp.  Great  bands  of  antelope  were  working 
northward  from  the  Gobi  Desert  to  the  better  grazing 
on  the  grass-covered  Turin  plain.  We  encountered  the 
main  herd  one  evening  about  six  o'clock,  and  it  was  a 
sight  which  made  us  gasp  for  breath.  We  were  shifting 
camp,  and  my  wife  and  I  were  trotting  along  parallel 
to  the  carts  which  moved  slowly  over  the  trail  a  mile 
away.  We  had  had  a  delightful,  as  well  as  a  profitable, 
day.  Yvette  had  been  busy  with  her  camera,  while  I 
picked  up  an  antelope,  a  bustard,  three  hares,  and  half 
a  dozen  marmots.  We  were  loafing  in  our  saddles,  when 
suddenly  we  caught  sight  of  the  cook  standing  on  his 
cart  frantically  signaling  us  to  come. 

In  ten  seconds  our  ponies  were  flying  toward  the  cara- 
van, while  we  mentally  reviewed  every  accident  which 
possibly  could  have  happened  to  the  boys.  Lii  met  us 
twenty  yards  from  the  trail,  trembling  with  excitement 
and  totally  incoherent.  He  could  only  point  to  the 
south  and  stammer,  "Too  many  antelope.  Over  there. 
Too  many,  too  many." 


118  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

I  slipped  off  Kublai  Khan's  back  and  put  up  the 
glasses.  Certainly  there  were  animals,  but  I  thought 
they  must  be  sheep  or  ponies.  Hundreds  were  in  sight, 
feeding  in  one  vast  herd  and  in  many  smaller  groups. 
Then  I  remembered  that  the  nearest  well  was  twenty 
miles  away ;  therefore  they  could  not  be  horses.  I  looked 
again  and  knew  they  must  be  antelope — not  in  hun- 
dreds, but  in  thousands. 

Mr.  Larsen  in  Urga  had  told  us  of  herds  like  this,  but 
we  had  never  hoped  to  see  one.  Yet  there  before  us, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  was  a  yellow  mass  of  mov- 
ing forms.  In  a  moment  Yvette  and  I  had  left  the 
carts.  There  was  no  possibility  of  concealment,  and  our 
only  chance  was  to  run  the  herd.  When  we  were  per- 
haps half  a  mile  away  the  nearest  animals  threw  up  their 
heads  and  began  to  stamp  and  run  about,  only  to  stop 
again  and  stare  at  us.  We  kept  on  very  slowly,  edging 
nearer  every  moment.  Suddenly  they  decided  that  we 
were  really  dangerous,  and  the  herd  strung  out  like  a 
regiment  of  yellow-coated  soldiers. 

Kublai  Khan  had  seen  the  antelope  almost  as  soon  as 
we  left  the  carts,  and  although  he  had  already  traveled 
forty  miles  that  day,  was  nervously  champing  the  bit 
with  head  up  and  ears  erect.  When  at  last  I  gave  him  the 
word,  he  gathered  himself  for  one  terrific  spring;  down 
went  his  head  and  he  dashed  forward  with  every  ounce 
of  strength  behind  his  flying  legs.  His  run  was  the 
long,  smooth  stride  of  a  thoroughbred,  and  it  sent  the 
blood  surging  through  my  veins  in  a  wild  thrill  of  ex- 
hilaration.   Once  only  I  glanced  back  at  Yvette.    She 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  119 

was  almost  at  my  side.  Her  hair  had  loosened  and  was 
flying  back  like  a  veil  behind  her  head.  Tense  with  ex- 
citement, eyes  shining,  she  was  heedless  of  everything 
save  those  skimming  yellow  forms  before  us.  It  was 
useless  to  look  for  holes ;  ere  I  had  seen  one  we  were  over 
or  around  it.  With  head  low  down  and  muzzle  out,  my 
pony  needed  not  the  slightest  touch  to  guide  him.  He 
knew  where  we  were  going  and  the  part  he  had  to 
play. 

More  than  a  thousand  antelope  were  running  diag- 
onally across  our  course.  It  was  a  sight  to  stir  the  gods ; 
a  thing  to  give  one's  life  to  see.  But  when  we  were 
almost  near  enough  to  shoot,  the  herd  suddenly  swerved 
heading  directly  away  from  us.  In  an  instant  we  were 
enveloped  in  a  whirling  cloud  of  dust  through  which  the 
flying  animals  were  dimly  visible  like  phantom  figures. 
Kublai  Khan  was  choked,  and  his  hot  breath  rasped 
sharply  through  his  nostrils,  but  he  plunged  on  and  on 
into  that  yellow  cloud.  Standing  in  my  stirrups,  I  fired 
six  times  at  the  wraithlike  forms  ahead  as  fast  as  I  could 
work  the  lever  of  my  rifle.  Of  course,  it  was  useless,  but 
just  the  same  I  had  to  shoot. 

In  about  a  mile  the  great  herd  slowed  down  and 
stopped.  We  could  see  hundreds  of  animals  on  every 
side,  in  groups  of  fifty  or  one  hundred.  Probably  two 
thousand  antelope  were  in  sight  at  once  and  many  more 
were  beyond  the  sky  rim  to  the  west.  We  gave  the 
ponies  ten  minutes'  rest,  and  had  another  run  as  unsuc- 
cessful as  the  first.  Then  a  third  and  fourth.  The  ante- 
lope, for  some  strange  reason,  would  not  cross  our  path. 


120  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

but  always  turned  straight  away  before  we  were  near 
enough  to  shoot. 

After  an  hour  we  returned  to  the  carts — for  Yvette 
was  exhausted  from  excitement — and  the  lama  took  her 
place.  We  left  the  great  herd  and  turned  southward, 
parallel  to  the  road.  A  mile  away  we  found  more  ante- 
lope; at  least  a  thousand  were  scattered  about  feeding 
quietly  like  those  we  had  driven  north.  It  seemed  as 
though  all  the  gazelles  in  Mongolia  had  concentrated  on 
those  few  miles  of  plain. 

The  ponies  were  so  exhausted  that  we  decided  to  try 
a  drive  and  leave  the  main  herd  in  peace.  When  we 
were  concealed  from  view  in  the  bottom  of  a  land  swell 
I  slipped  off  and  hobbled  Kublai  Khan.  The  poor  fel- 
low was  so  tired  he  could  only  stand  with  drooping  head, 
even  though  there  was  rich  grass  beneath  his  feet.  I 
sent  the  lama  in  a  long  circle  to  get  behind  the  herd, 
while  I  crawled  a  few  hundred  yards  away  and  snuggled 
out  of  sight  into  an  old  wolf  den. 

I  watched  the  antelope  for  fifteen  minutes  through 
my  binoculars.  They  were  feeding  in  a  vast  semicircle, 
entirely  unconscious  of  my  presence.  Suddenly  every 
head  went  up ;  they  stared  fixedly  toward  the  west  for 
a  moment,  and  were  off  like  the  wind.  About  five  hun- 
dred drew  together  in  a  compact  mass,  but  a  dozen 
smaller  herds  scattered  wildly,  running  in  every  direc- 
tion except  toward  me.  They  had  seen  the  lama  before 
he  had  succeeded  in  completely  encircling  them,  and  the 
drive  was  ruined. 

The  Mongols  kill  great  numbers  of  antelope  in  just 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  1«1 

this  way.  When  a  herd  has  been  located,  a  line  of  men 
will  conceal  themselves  at  distances  of  two  or  three  hun- 
dred yards,  while  as  many  more  get  behind  the  animals 
and  drive  them  toward  the  waiting  hunters.  Sometimes 
the  gazelles  almost  step  on  the  natives  and  become  so 
frightened  that  they  run  the  gantlet  of  the  entire  firing 
line. 

I  did  not  have  the  heart  to  race  again  with  our  ex- 
hausted ponies,  and  we  turned  back  toward  the  carts 
which  were  out  of  sight.  Scores  of  antelope,  singly  or 
in  pairs,  were  visible  on  the  sky  line  and  as  we  rode  to 
the  summit  of  a  little  rise  a  herd  of  fifty  appeared  al- 
most below  us.  We  paid  no  attention  to  them;  but  sud- 
denly my  pony  stopped  with  ears  erect.  He  looked  back 
at  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Don't  you  see  those  ante- 
lope?" and  began  gently  pulling  at  the  reins.  I  could 
feel  him  tremble  with  eagerness  and  excitement.  "Well, 
old  chap,"  I  said,  "if  you  are  as  keen  as  all  that,  let's 
give  them  a  run." 

With  a  magnificent  burst  of  speed  Kublai  Khan 
launched  himself  toward  the  fleeing  animals.  They 
circled  beautifully,  straight  into  the  eye  of  the  sun,  which 
lay  like  a  great  red  ball  upon  the  surface  of  the  plain. 
We  were  still  three  hundred  yards  away  and  gaining 
rapidly,  but  I  had  to  shoot;  in  a  moment  I  would  be 
blinded  by  the  sun.  As  the  flame  leaped  from  my  rifle, 
we  heard  the  dull  thud  of  a  bullet  on  flesh ;  at  the  second 
shot,  another;  and  then  a  third.  "Sang a'  (three), 
yelled  the  lama,  and  dashed  forward,  wild  with  excite- 
ment. 


122  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

The  three  gazelles  lay  almost  the  same  distance  apart, 
each  one  shot  through  the  body.  It  was  interesting  evi- 
dence that  the  actions  of  working  the  lever  on  my  rifle 
and  aiming,  and  the  speed  of  the  antelope,  varied  only 
by  a  fraction  of  a  second.  In  this  case,  brain  and  eye 
and  hand  had  functioned  perfectly.  Needless  to  say,  I 
do  not  always  shoot  like  that. 

Two  of  the  antelope  were  yearling  bucks,  and  one  was 
a  large  doe.  The  lama  took  the  female  on  his  pony, 
and  I  strapped  the  other  two  on  Kublai  Khan.  When 
I  mounted,  he  was  carrying  a  weight  of  two  hundred 
and  eighty-five  pounds,  yet  he  kept  his  steady  "home- 
ward trot"  without  a  break  until  we  reached  the  carts 
six  miles  away. 

Yvette  had  been  afraid  that  we  would  miss  the  well 
in  the  gathering  darkness,  and  had  made  a  "dry  camp" 
beside  the  road.  We  had  only  a  little  water  for  our- 
selves ;  but  my  pony's  nose  was  full  of  dust,  and  I  knew 
how  parched  his  throat  must  be,  so  I  divided  my  sup- 
ply with  him.  The  poor  animal  was  so  frightened  by 
the  dish,  that  he  would  only  snort  and  back  away;  even 
when  I  wet  his  nose  with  some  of  the  precious  fluid,  he 
would  not  drink. 

The  success  of  our  work  upon  the  plains  depended 
largely  upon  Kublai  Khan.  He  was  only  a  Mongol 
pony  but  he  was  just  as  great,  in  his  own  way,  as  was 
the  Tartar  emperor  whose  name  he  bore.  Whatever 
it  was  I  asked  him  to  do,  he  gave  his  very  best.  Can 
you  wonder  that  I  loved  him? 

Within  a  fortnight  from  the  time  I  bought  him,  he 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  US 

became  a  perfect  hunting  pony.  The  secret  of  it  all 
was  that  he  liked  the  game  as  well  as  I.  Traveling  with 
the  carts  bored  him  exceedingly  but  the  instant  game 
appeared  he  was  all  excitement.  Often  he  saw  an- 
telope before  we  did.  We  might  be  trotting  slowly 
over  the  plains,  when  suddenly  he  would  jerk  his  head 
erect  and  begin  to  pull  gently  at  the  reins;  when  I 
reached  down  to  take  my  rifle  from  the  holster,  he 
would  tremble  with  eagerness  to  be  off. 

In  hunting  antelope  you  should  ride  slowly  toward 
the  animals,  drawing  nearer  gradually.  They  are  so 
accustomed  to  see  Mongols  that  they  will  not  begin 
to  run  in  earnest  until  a  man  is  five  or  six  hundred 
yards  away,  but  when  they  are  really  off,  a  fast  pony 
is  the  great  essential.  The  time  to  stop  is  just  before 
the  animals  cross  your  path,  and  then  you  must  stop 
quickly.  Kublai  Khan  learned  the  trick  immediately. 
As  soon  as  he  felt  the  pressure  of  my  knees,  and  the 
slightest  pull  upon  the  reins,  his  whole  body  stiffened 
and  he  braced  himself  like  a  polo  pony.  It  made  not 
the  slightest  difference  to  him  whether  I  shot  from 
his  back  or  directly  under  his  nose;  he  stood  quietly 
watching  the  running  antelope.  When  we  were  rid- 
ing across  the  plains  if  a  bird  ran  along  the  ground  or 
a  hare  jumped  out  of  the  grass,  he  was  after  it  like  a 
dog.  Often  I  would  find  myself  flying  toward  an  ani- 
mal which  I  had  never  seen. 

Yvette's  pony  was  useless  for  hunting  antelope.  In- 
stead of  heading  diagonally  toward  the  gazelles  he 
would  always  attempt  to  follow  the  herd.    When  it 


IM  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

was  time  to  stop  I  would  have  to  put  all  my  strength 
upon  the  reins  and  the  horse  would  come  into  a  slow 
gallop  and  then  a  trot.  Seconds  of  valuable  time  would 
be  wasted  before  I  could  begin  to  shoot.  I  tried  half 
a  dozen  other  ponies,  but  they  were  all  as  bad.  They 
did  not  have  the  intelligence  or  the  love  of  hunting 
which  made  Kublai  Khan  so  valuable. 

The  morning  after  encountering  the  great  herd,  we 
camped  at  a  well  thirty  miles  north  of  the  Turin  mon- 
astery. Three  or  four  yurts  were  scattered  about,  and 
a  caravan  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  camels  was  rest- 
ing in  a  little  hollow.  From  the  door  of  our  tent  we 
could  see  the  blue  summit  of  the  Turin  "mountain," 
and  have  in  the  foreground  a  perpetual  moving  picture 
of  camels,  horses,  sheep,  goats,  and  cattle  seeking  water. 
All  day  long  hundreds  of  animals  crowded  about  the 
well,  while  one  of  two  Mongols  filled  the  troughs  by 
means  of  wooden  buckets. 

The  life  about  the  wells  is  always  interesting,  for  they 
are  points  of  concentration  for  all  wanderers  on  the 
plains.  Just  as  we  pitch  our  tents  and  make  ourselves 
at  home,  so  great  caravans  arrive  with  tired,  laden 
camels.  The  huge  brutes  kneel,  while  their  packs  are 
being  removed,  and  then  stand  in  a  long  line,  patiently 
waiting  until  their  turn  comes  to  drink.  Groups  of  ten 
or  twelve  crowd  about  the  trough;  then,  majestically 
swinging  their  padded  feet,  they  move  slowly  to  one 
side,  kneel  upon  the  ground,  and  sleepily  chew  their 
cuds  until  all  the  herd  has  joined  them.  Sometimes  the 
caravans  wait  for  several  days  to  rest  their  animals  and 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  126 

let  them  feed;  sometimes  they  vanish  in  the  first  gray 
light  of  dawn. 

On  the  Turin  plain  we  had  a  delightful  glimpse  of 
antelope  babyhood.  The  great  herds  which  we  had 
found  were  largely  composed  of  does  just  ready  to  drop 
their  young,  and  after  a  few  days  they  scattered  widely 
into  groups  of  from  five  to  twenty. 

We  found  the  first  baby  antelope  on  June  27. 
We  had  seen  half  a. dozen  females  circling  restlessly 
about,  and  suspected  that  their  fawns  could  not  be  far 
away.  Sure  enough,  our  Mongol  discovered  one  of  the 
little  fellows  in  the  flattest  part  of  the  flat  plain.  It 
was  lying  motionless  with  its  neck  stretched  out,  just 
where  its  mother  had  told  it  to  remain  when  she  saw  us 
riding  toward  her. 

Yvette  called  to  me,  "Oh,  please,  please  catch  it.  We 
can  raise  it  on  milk  and  it  will  make  such  an  adorable 
pet." 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  "let's  do.  I'll  get  it  for  you.  You 
can  put  it  in  your  hat  till  we  go  back  to  camp." 

In  blissful  ignorance  I  dismounted  and  slowly  went 
toward  the  little  animal.  There  was  not  the  slightest 
motion  until  I  tossed  my  outspread  shooting  coat. 
Then  I  saw  a  flash  of  brown,  a  bobbing  white  rump- 
patch,  and  a  tiny  thing,  no  larger  than  a  rabbit,  speed- 
ing over  the  plain.  The  baby  was  somewhat  "wab- 
bly," to  be  sure,  for  this  was  probably  the  first  time 
it  had  ever  tried  its  slender  legs,  but  after  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  it  ran  as  steadily  as  its  mother. 

I  was  so  surprised  that  for  a  moment  I  simply  stared. 


ne  ACROSS  mongolian  plains 

Then  I  leaped  into  the  saddle  and  Kublai  Khan  rushed 
after  the  diminutive  brown  fawn.  It  was  a  good  half 
mile  before  we  had  the  little  chap  under  the  pony's 
nose  but  the  race  was  by  no  means  ended.  Mewing 
with  fright,  it  swerved  sharply  to  the  left  and  ere  we 
could  swing  about,  it  had  gained  a  hundred  yards. 
Again  and  again  we  were  almost  on  it,  but  every  time 
it  dodged  and  got  away.  After  half  an  hour  my  pony 
was  gasping  for  breath,  and  I  changed  to  Yvette's 
chestnut  stallion.  The  Mongol  joined  me  and  we  had 
another  run,  but  we  might  have  been  pursuing  a  streak 
of  shifting  sunlight.  Finally  we  had  to  give  it  up  and 
watch  the  tiny  thing  bob  away  toward  its  mother,  who 
was  circling  about  in  the  distance. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  other  fawns  upon  the  plain, 
but  they  all  treated  us  alike  and  my  wife's  hat  was 
empty  when  we  returned  to  camp.  These  antelope 
probably  had  been  born  not  more  than  two  or  three 
days  before  we  found  them.  Later,  after  a  chase  of 
more  than  a  mile,  we  caught  one  which  was  only  a  few 
hours  old.  Had  it  not  injured  itself  when  dodging  be- 
tween my  pony's  legs  we  could  never  have  secured  it 
at  all. 

Thus,  nature,  in  the  great  scheme  of  life,  has  pro- 
vided for  her  antelope  children  by  blessing  them  with 
undreamed-of  speed  and  only  during  the  first  days  of 
babyhood  could  a  wolf  catch  them  on  the  open  plain. 
When  they  are  from  two  to  three  weeks  old  they  run 
with  the  females  in  herds  of  six  or  eight,  and  you  cannot 
imagine  what  a  pretty  sight  it  is  to  see  the  little  fellows 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  127 

skimming  like  tiny,  brown  chickens  beside  their  moth- 
ers. There  is  another  wonderful  provision  for  their 
life  upon  the  desert.  The  digestive  fluids  of  the  stom- 
ach act  upon  the  starch  in  the  vegetation  which  they 
eat  so  that  it  forms  sufficient  water  for  their  needs. 
Therefore,  some  species  never  drink. 

The  antelope  choose  a  flat  plain  on  which  to  give  birth 
to  their  young  in  order  to  be  well  away  from  the  wolves 
which  are  their  greatest  enemy;  and  the  fawns  are 
taught  to  lie  absolutely  motionless  upon  the  ground 
until  they  know  that  they  have  been  discovered.  Ap- 
parently they  are  all  born  during  the  last  days  of  June 
and  in  the  first  week  of  July.  The  great  herds  which 
we  encountered  were  probably  moving  northward  both 
to  obtain  better  grazing  and  to  drop  their  young  on 
the  Turin  plain.  During  this  period  the  old  bucks  go 
off  singly  into  the  rolling  ground,  and  the  herds  are 
composed  only  of  does  and  yearling  males.  It  was  al- 
ways possible  to  tell  at  once  if  an  antelope  had  a  fawn 
upon  the  plain,  for  she  would  run  in  a  wide  circle  around 
the  spot  and  refuse  to  be  driven  away. 

We  encountered  only  two  species  of  antelope  between 
Kalgan  and  Urga.  The  one  of  which  I  have  been  writ- 
ing, and  with  which  we  became  best  acquainted,  was  the 
Mongolian  gazelle  {Gazella  gutturosa).  The  other 
was  the  goitered  gazelle  (Gazella  subgutturosa) .  In 
the  western  Gobi,  the  Prjevalski  gazelle  [Gazella 
prjevalski)  is  more  abundant  than  the  other  species, 
but  it  never  reaches  the  region  which  we  visited. 

The  goitered  antelope  is  seldom  found  on  the  rolling 


128  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

meadowlands  between  Kalgan  and  Panj-kiang  on  the 
south,  or  between  Turin  and  Urga  on  the  north,  ac- 
cording to  our  observations ;  they  keep  almost  entirely 
to  the  Gobi  Desert  between  Panj-kiang  and  Turin,  and 
we  often  saw  them  among  the  "nigger  heads"  or  tus- 
socks in  the  most  arid  parts.  The  Mongolian  gazelle, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  most  abundant  in  the  grasslands 
both  north  and  south  of  the  Gobi,  but  nevertheless  has 
a  continuous  distribution  across  the  plateau  between 
Kalgan  and  Urga. 

On  our  northward  trip  in  May,  when  we  took  motion 
pictures  of  the  antelope  on  the  Panj-kiang  plain,  both, 
species  were  present,  but  the  goitered  gazelle  far  out- 
numbered the  others — which  is  unusual  in  that  locality. 
It  could  always  be  distinguished  from  the  Mongolian 
gazelle  because  of  its  smaller  size,  darker  coloring,  and 
the  long  tail  which  it  carries  straight  up  in  the  air  at 
right  angles  to  the  back;  the  Mongolian  antelope  has 
an  exceedingly  short  tail.  The  horns  of  both  species 
differ  considerably  in  shape  and  can  easily  be  distin- 
guished. 

During  the  winter  these  antelope  develop  a  coat  of 
very  long,  soft  hair  which  is  light  brown-gray  in  color 
strongly  tinged  with  rufous  on  the  head  and  face.  Its 
summer  pelage  is  a  beautiful  orange-fawn.  The  win- 
ter coat  is  shed  during  May,  and  the  animals  lose  their 
short  summer  hair  in  late  August  and  early  September. 

Both  species  have  a  greatly  enlarged  larynx  from 
which  the  goitered  gazelle  derives  its  name.  What  pur- 
pose this  extraordinary  character  serves  the  animal,  I 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  129 

am  at  a  loss  to  know.  Certainly  it  is  not  to  give  them 
an  exceptional  "voice";  for,  when  wounded,  I  have 
heard  them  make  only  a  deep-toned  roar  which  was  by 
no  means  loud.  Specimens  of  the  larynx  which  we 
preserved  in  formalin  are  now  being  prepared  for 
anatomical  study. 

Although  the  two  species  inhabit  the  same  locality, 
they  keep  well  by  themselves  and  only  once,  on  the 
Panj-kiang  plain,  did  we  see  them  running  together  in 
the  same  herd ;  then  it  was  probably  because  they  were 
frightened  by  the  car.  I  doubt  if  they  ever  interbreed 
except  in  rare  instances. 

The  fact  that  these  animals  can  develop  such  an  ex- 
traordinary speed  was  a  great  surprise  to  me,  as  un- 
doubtedly it  will  be  to  most  naturalists.  Had  we  not 
been  able  to  determine  it  accurately  by  means  of  the 
speedometers  on  our  cars,  I  should  never  have  dared 
state  that  they  could  reach  fifty-five  or  sixty  miles  an 
hour.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  animals  can 
continue  at  such  a  high  speed  only  for  a  short  distance 
— perhaps  half  a  mile — and  will  never  exert  themselves 
to  the  utmost  unless  they  are  thoroughly  frightened. 
They  would  run  just  fast  enough  to  keep  well  away 
from  the  cars  or  our  horses,  and  it  was  only  when  we 
began  to  shoot  that  they  showed  what  they  were  capable 
of  doing.  When  the  bullets  began  to  scatter  about  them 
they  would  seem  to  flatten  several  inches  and  run  at 
such  a  terrific  speed  that  their  legs  appeared  only  as  a 
blur. 

Of  course,  they  have  developed  their  fleetness  as  a 


130  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

protection  from  enemies.  Their  greatest  menace  is  the 
wolves,  but  since  we  demonstrated  that  these  animals 
cannot  travel  faster  than  about  thirty  miles  an  hour, 
the  antelope  are  perfectly  safe  unless  they  happen  to 
be  caught  off  their  guard.  To  prevent  just  this,  the 
gazelles  usually  keep  well  out  on  the  open  plains  and 
avoid  rocks  or  abrupt  hills  which  would  furnish  cover 
for  a  wolf.  Of  course,  they  often  go  into  the  rolling 
ground,  but  it  is  usually  where  the  slopes  are  gradual 
and  where  they  have  sufficient  space  in  which  to  pro- 
tect themselves. 

The  gazelles  have  a  perfectly  smooth,  even  run  when 
going  at  full  speed.  I  have  often  seen  them  bound 
along  when  not  particularly  frightened,  but  never  when 
they  are  really  trying  to  get  away  in  the  shortest  pos- 
sible time.  The  front  limbs,  as  in  the  case  of  a  deer, 
act  largely  as  supports  and  the  real  motive  power 
comes  from  the  hind  legs.  If  an  antelope  has  only  a 
front  leg  broken  no  living  horse  can  catch  it,  but  with 
a  shattered  hind  limb  my  pony  could  run  it  down.  I 
have  already  related  (see  page  49)  how,  in  a  car,  we 
pursued  an  antelope  with  both  front  legs  broken  below 
the  knee;  even  then,  it  reached  a  speed  of  fifteen  miles 
an  hour.  The  Mongolian  plains  are  firm  and  hard 
with  no  bushes  or  other  obstructions  and,  consequently, 
are  especially  favorable  for  rapid  travel. 

The  cheetah,  or  hunting  leopard  of  Africa,  has  the 
reputation  of  being  able  to  reach  a  greater  speed,  for 
a  short  dash,  than  any  other  animal  in  that  country, 
and  I  have  often  wondered  how  it  would  fare  in  a  race 


HUNTING  ON  THE  TURIN  PLAIN  131 

with  a  Mongolian  gazelle.  Unfortunately,  conditions 
in  Africa  are  not  favorable  for  the  use  of  automobiles 
in  hunting,  and  no  actual  facts  as  to  the  speed  of  the 
cheetah  are  available. 

At  this  camp,  and  during  the  journey  back  to  Urga, 
we  had  many  glorious  hunts.  Each  one  held  its  own 
individual  fascination,  for  no  two  were  just  alike;  and 
every  day  we  learned  something  new  about  the  life  his- 
tory of  the  Mongolian  antelope.  We  needed  speci- 
mens for  a  group  in  the  new  Hall  of  Asiatic  Life  in  the 
American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  as  well  as  a 
series  representing  all  ages  of  both  males  and  females 
for  scientific  study.  When  we  returned  to  Urga  we 
had  them  all. 

The  hunting  of  large  game  was  only  one  aspect  of 
our  work.  We  usually  returned  to  camp  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  As  soon  as  tiffin  had  been 
eaten  my  wife  worked  at  her  photography,  while  I  bus- 
ied myself  over  the  almost  innumerable  details  of  the 
preparation  and  cataloguing  of  our  specimens.  About 
six  o'clock,  accompanied  by  the  two  Chinese  taxi- 
dermists carrying  bags  of  traps,  we  would  leave  the 
tents.  Sometimes  we  would  walk  several  miles,  mean- 
while carefully  scrutinizing  the  ground  for  holes  or 
traces  of  mammal  workings,  and  set  eighty  or  one  hun- 
dred traps.  We  might  find  a  colony  of  meadow  voles 
(Microtus)  where  dozens  of  "runways"  betrayed  their 
presence,  or  discover  the  burrows  of  the  desert  hamster 
(Cricetuliis) .    These  little  fellows,  not  larger  than  a 


1S2  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

house  mouse,  have  their  tiny  feet  enveloped  in  soft  fur, 
like  the  slippers  of  an  Eskimo  baby. 

As  we  walked  back  to  camp  in  the  late  afternoon, 
we  often  saw  a  kangaroo  rat  {Alactaga  mongolica?) 
jumping  across  the  plain,  and  when  we  had  driven  it 
into  a  hole,  we  could  be  sure  to  catch  it  in  a  trap  the 
following  morning.  They  are  gentle  little  creatures, 
with  huge,  round  eyes,  long,  delicate  ears,  and  tails 
tufted  at  the  end  like  the  feathers  on  an  arrow's  shaft. 
The  name  expresses  exactly  what  they  are  like — di- 
minutive kangaroos — ^but,  of  course,  they  are  rodents 
and  not  marsupials.  During  the  glacial  period  of  the 
early  Pleistocene,  about  one  hundred  thousand  years 
ago,  we  know  from  fossil  remains  that  there  were  great 
invasions  into  Europe  of  most  of  these  types  of  tiny 
mammals,  which  we  were  catching  during  this  delightful 
summer  on  the  Mongolian  plains. 

After  two  months  we  regretfully  turned  back  toward 
Urga.  Our  summer  was  to  be  divided  between  the 
plains  on  the  south  and  the  forests  to  the  north  of  the 
sacred  city,  and  the  first  half  of  the  work  had  been 
completed.  The  results  had  been  very  satisfactory,  and 
our  boxes  contained  five  hundred  specimens;  but  our 
hearts  were  sad.  The  wide  sweep  of  the  limitless, 
grassy  sea,  the  glorious  morning  rides,  and  the  magic 
of  the  starlit  nights  had  filled  our  blood.  Even  the 
lure  of  the  unknown  forests  could  not  make  us  glad 
to  go,  for  the  plains  had  claimed  us  as  their  own. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  LAMA  CITY 

Late  on  a  July  afternoon  my  wife  and  I  stood  dis- 
consolately in  the  middle  of  the  road  on  the  outskirts 
of  Urga.  We  had  halted  because  the  road  had  ended 
abruptly  in  a  muddy  river.  Moreover,  the  river  was 
where  it  had  no  right  to  be,  for  we  had  traveled  that 
road  before  and  had  found  only  a  tiny  trickle  across  its 
dusty  surface.  We  were  disconsolate  because  we 
wished  to  camp  that  night  in  Urga,  and  there  were 
abundant  signs  that  it  could  not  be  done. 

At  least  the  Mongols  thought  so,  and  we  had  learned 
that  what  a  Mongol  does  not  do  had  best  "give  us 
pause."  They  had  accepted  the  river  with  Oriental 
philosophy  and  had  made  their  camps  accordingly.  Al- 
ready a  score  of  tents  dotted  the  hillside,  and  argul 
fires  were  smoking  in  the  doorways.  Hundreds  of  carts 
were  drawn  up  in  an  orderly  array  while  a  regiment 
of  oxen  wandered  about  the  hillside  or  sleepily  chewed 
their  cuds  beside  the  loads.  In  a  few  hours  or  days  or 
weeks  the  river  would  disappear,  and  then  they  would 
go  on  to  Urga.     Meanwhile,  why  worry? 

Two  adventurous  spirits,  with  a  hundred  camels,  tried 
to  cross.  We  watched  the  huge  beasts  step  majes- 
tically into  the  water,  only  to  huddle  together  in  a  yel- 

133 


1S4  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

low-brown  mass  when  they  reached  midstream.  All 
their  dignity  fled,  and  they  became  merely  frightened 
mountains  of  flesh  amid  a  chaos  of  writhing  necks  and 
wildly  switching  tails. 

But  stranger  still  was  a  motor  car  standing  on  a 
partly  submerged  island  between  two  branches  of  the 
torrent.  We  learned  later  that  its  owners  had  suc- 
cessfully navigated  the  first  stream  and  entered  the  sec- 
ond. A  flooded  carburetor  had  resulted,  and  ere  the 
car  was  again  in  running  order,  the  water  had  risen 
sufficiently  to  maroon  them  on  the  island. 

My  wife  and  I  both  lack  the  philosophical  nature 
of  the  Oriental,  and  it  was  a  sore  trial  to  camp  within 
rifle  shot  of  Urga.  But  we  did  not  dare  leave  our 
carts,  loaded  with  precious  specimens,  to  the  care  of 
servants  and  the  curiosity  of  an  ever  increasing  horde 
of  Mongols. 

For  a  well-nigh  rainless  month  we  had  been  hunting 
upon  the  plains,  while  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
away  Urga  had  had  an  almost  daily  deluge.  In  mid- 
simruner  heavy  rain-clouds  roll  southward  to  burst 
against  "God's  Mountain,"  which  rears  its  green-clad 
summits  five  thousand  feet  above  the  valley.'  Then  it 
is  only  a  matter  of  hours  before  every  streamlet  be- 
comes a  swollen  torrent.  But  they  subside  as  quickly 
as  they  rise,  and  the  particular  river  which  barred  our 
road  had  lost  its  menace  before  the  sun  had  risen  in  a 
cloudless  morning  sky.  All  the  valley  seemed  in  mo- 
tion. We  joined  the  motley  throng  of  camels,  carts, 
and  horsemen;  and  even  the  motor  car  coughed  and 


X 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  LAMA  CITY        135 

wheezed  its  way  to  Urga  under  the  stimulus  of  two 
bearded  Russians. 

We  made  our  camp  on  a  beautiful  bit  of  lawn  within 
a  few  hundred  yards  of  one  of  the  most  interesting 
of  all  the  Urga  temples.  It  is  known  to  the  foreigners 
in  the  city  as  "God's  Brother's  House,"  for  it  was  the 
residence  of  the  Hutukhtu's  late  brother.  The  temple 
presents  a  bewildering  collection  of  carved  gables  and 
gayly  painted  pavilions  flaunting  almost  every  color  of 
the  rainbow.  Yvette  and  I  were  consumed  with  curi- 
osity to  see  what  was  contained  within  the  high  pali- 
sades which  surround  the  buildings.  We  knew  it  would 
be  impossible  to  obtain  permission  for  her  to  go  inside, 
and  one  evening  as  we  were  walking  along  the  walls  we 
glanced  through  the  open  gate.  No  one  was  in  sight 
and  from  somewhere  in  the  far  interior  we  heard  the 
moaning  chant  of  many  voices.  Evidently  the  lamas 
were  at  their  evening  prayers. 

We  stepped  inside  the  door  intending  only  to  take 
a  rapid  look.  The  entire  court  was  deserted,  so  we 
slipped  through  the  second  gate  and  stood  just  at  the 
entrance  of  the  main  temple,  the  "holy  of  holies."  In 
the  half  darkness  we  could  see  the  tiny  points  of  yel- 
low light  where  candles  burned  before  the  altar.  On 
either  side  was  a  double  row  of  kneeling  lamas,  their 
wailing  chant  broken  by  the  clash  of  cymbals  and  the 
boom  of  drums. 

Beside  the  temple  were  a  hideous  foreign  house  and 
an  enormous  yurt — evidently  the  former  residences  of 
"God's  Brother";  in  the  corners  of  the  compound  were 


136  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

ornamental  pavilions  painted  green  and  red.  Except 
for  these,  the  court  was  empty. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  stir  among  the  lamas,  and  we 
dashed  away  like  frightened  rabbits,  dodging  behind 
the  gateposts  until  we  were  safe  outside.  It  was  not 
until  some  days  later  that  we  learned  what  a  really 
dangerous  thing  it  was  to  do,  for  the  temple  is  one  of 
the  holiest  in  Urga,  and  in  it  women  are  never  allowed. 
Had  a  Mongol  seen  us,  our  camp  would  have  been 
stormed  by  a  mob  of  frenzied  lamas. 

A  lew  days  later  we  had  an  experience  which  dem- 
onstrates how  quickly  trouble  can  arise  where  religious 
superstitions  are  involved.  My  wife  and  I  had  put 
the  motion  picture  camera  in  one  of  the  carts  and,  with 
our  Mongol  driving,  went  to  the  summit  of  the  hill 
above  the  Lama  City  to  film  a  panoramic  view  of  Urga. 
We,  ourselves,  were  on  horseback.  After  getting  the 
pictures,  we  drove  down  the  main  street  of  the  city 
and  stopped  before  the  largest  temple,  which  I  had 
photographed  several  times  before. 

As  soon  as  the  motion  picture  machine  was  in  posi- 
tion, about  five  hundred  lamas  gathered  about  us.  It 
was  a  good-natured  crowd,  however,  and  we  had  almost 
finished  work,  when  a  "black  Mongol"  (i.e.,  one  with 
a  queue,  not  a  lama)  pushed  his  way  among  the  priests 
and  began  to  harangue  them  violently.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments he  boldly  grasped  me  by  the  arm.  Fearing  that 
trouble  might  arise,  I  smiled  and  said,  in  Chinese, 
that  we  were  going  away.  The  Mongol  began  to  ges- 
ticulate wildly  and  attempted  to  pull  me  with  him  far- 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  LAMA  CITY        137 

ther  into  the  crowd  of  lamas,  who  also  were  becoming 
excited.  I  was  being  separated  from  Yvette,  and  real- 
izing that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  get  far  away  from 
her,  I  suddenly  wrenched  my  arm  free  and  threw  the 
Mongol  to  the  ground ;  then  I  rushed  through  the  line 
of  lamas  surrounding  Yvette,  and  we  backed  up  against 
the  cart. 

I  had  an  automatic  pistol  in  my  pocket,  but  it  would 
have  been  suicide  to  shoot  except  as  a  last  resort.  When 
a  Mongol  "starts  anything"  he  is  sure  to  finish  it;  he  is 
not  like  a  Chinese,  who  will  usually  run  at  the  first 
shot.  We  stood  for  at  least  three  minutes  with  that 
wall  of  scowling  brutes  ten  feet  away.  They  were  un- 
decided what  to  do  and  were  only  waiting  for  a  leader 
to  close  in.  One  huge  beast  over  six  feet  tall  was  just 
in  front  of  me,  and  as  I  stood  with  my  fingers  crooked 
about  the  trigger  of  the  automatic  in  my  pocket,  I 
thought,  "If  you  start,  I'm  going  to  nail  you  any- 
way.'* 

Just  at  this  moment  of  indecision  our  Mongol  leaped 
on  my  wife's  pony,  shouted  that  he  was  going  to  Duke 
Loobitsan  Yangsen,  an  influential  friend  of  ours,  and 
dashed  away.  Instantly  attention  turned  from  us  to 
him.  Fifty  men  were  on  horseback  in  a  second,  fly- 
ing after  him  at  full  speed.  I  climbed  into  the  cart, 
shouting  to  Yvette  to  jump  on  Kublai  Khan  and  run ; 
but  she  would  not  leave  me.  At  full  speed  we  dashed 
down  the  hill,  the  plunging  horses  scattering  lamas  right 
and  left.  Our  young  Mongol  had  saved  us  from  a  sit- 
uation which  momentarily  might  have  become  critical. 


138  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

At  the  entrance  to  the  main  street  of  Urga  below 
the  Lama  City  I  saw  the  black  Mongol  who  had  started 
all  the  trouble.  I  jumped  to  the  ground,  seized  him 
by  the  collar  and  one  leg,  and  attempted  to  throw  him 
into  the  cart  for  I  had  a  little  matter  to  settle  with 
him  which  could  best  be  done  to  my  satisfaction  where 
we  were  without  spectators. 

At  the  same  instant  a  burly  policeman,  wearing  a 
saber  fully  five  feet  long,  seized  my  horse  by  the  bridle. 
At  the  black  Mongol's  instigation  (who,  I  discovered, 
was  himself  a  policeman)  he  had  been  waiting  to  arrest 
us  when  we  came  into  the  city.  Since  it  was  impos- 
sible to  learn  what  had  caused  the  trouble,  Yvette  rode 
to  Andersen,  Meyer's  compound  to  bring  back  Mr. 
Olufsen  and  his  interpreter.  She  found  the  whole 
courtyard  swarming  with  excited  Mongol  soldiers.  A 
few  moments  later  Olufsen  arrived,  and  we  were  al- 
lowed to  return  to  his  house  on  parole.  Then  he  vis- 
ited the  Foreign  Minister,  who  telephoned  the  police 
that  we  were  not  to  be  molested  further. 

We  could  never  satisfactorily  determine  what  it  was 
all  about  for  every  one  had  a  different  story.  The 
most  plausible  explanation  was  as  follows.  Russians 
had  been  rather  persona  non  grata  in  Urga  since  the 
collapse  of  the  empire,  and  the  Mongols  were  ready 
to  annoy  them  whenever  it  was  possible  to  do  so  and 
"get  away  with  it."  All  foreigners  are  supposed  to  be 
Russians  by  the  average  native  and,  when  the  black 
Mongol  discovered  us  using  a  strange  machine,  he 
thought  it  an  excellent  opportunity  to  "show  off"  be- 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  LAMA  CITY        139 

fore  the  lamas.  Therefore,  he  told  them  that  we  were 
casting  a  spell  over  the  great  temple  by  m^ans  of  the 
motion  picture  camera  which  I  was  swinging  up  and 
down  and  from  side  to  side.  This  may  not  be  the  true 
explanation  of  the  trouble  but  at  least  it  was  the  one 
which  sounded  most  logical  to  us. 

Our  lama  had  been  caught  in  the  city,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  we  were  able  to  obtain  his  release. 
The  police  charged  that  he  tried  to  escape  when  they 
ordered  him  to  stop.  He  related  how  they  had  slapped 
his  face  and  pulled  his  ears  before  they  allowed  him  to 
leave  the  jail,  and  he  was  a  very  much  frightened  young 
man  when  he  appeared  at  Andersen,  Meyer's  com- 
pound. However,  he  was  delighted  to  have  escaped  so 
easily,  as  he  had  had  excellent  prospects  of  spending  a 
week  or  two  in  one  of  the  prison  coffins. 

The  whole  performance  had  the  gravest  possibilities, 
and  we  were  exceedingly  fortunate  in  not  having  been 
seriously  injured  or  killed.  By  playing  upon  their  su- 
perstitions, the  black  Mongol  had  so  inflamed  the  lamas 
that  they  were  ready  for  anything.  I  should  never  have 
allowed  them  to  separate  me  from  my  wife  and,  to  pre- 
vent it,  probably  would  have  had  to  use  my  pistol.  Had 
I  begun  to  shoot,  death  for  both  of  us  would  have  been 
inevitable. 

The  day  that  we  arrived  in  Urga  from  the  plains  we 
found  the  city  flooded.  The  great  square  in  front  of 
the  horse  market  was  a  chocolate-colored  lake ;  a  brown 
torrent  was  rushing  down  the  main  street;  and  every 
alley  was  two  feet  deep  in  water,  or  a  mass  of  liquid 


140  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

mud.  It  was  impossible  to  walk  without  wading  to 
the  knees  and  even  our  horses  floundered  and  slipped 
about,  covering  us  with  mud  and  water.  The  river 
valley,  too,  presented  quite  a  different  picture  than 
when  we  had  seen  it  last.  Instead  of  open  sweeps  of 
grassland  dotted  with  an  occasional  yurt,  now  there 
were  hundreds  of  felt  dwellings  interspersed  with  tents 
of  white  or  blue.  It  was  like  the  encampment  of  a 
great  army,  or  a  collection  of  huge  beehives. 

Most  of  the  inhabitants  were  Mongols  from  the  city 
who  had  pitched  their  yurts  in  the  valley  for  the  sum- 
mer. Although  the  wealthiest  natives  seem  to  feel 
that  for  the  reception  of  guests  their  "position"  de- 
mands a  foreign  house,  they  seldom  live  in  it.  Duke 
Loobitsan  Yangsen  had  completed  his  mansion  the  pre- 
vious winter.  It  was  built  in  Russian  style  and  fur- 
nished with  an  assortment  of  hideous  rugs  and  foreign 
furniture  which  made  one  shiver.  But  in  the  yard  be- 
hind the  house  his  yurt  was  pitched,  and  there  he  lived 
in  comfort. 

Loobitsan  was  a  splendid  fellow — one  of  the  best 
types  of  Mongol  aristocrats.  From  the  crown  of  his 
finely  molded  head  to  the  toes  of  his  pointed  boots,  he 
was  every  inch  a  duke.  I  saw  him  in  his  house  one 
day  reclining  on  a  hang  while  he  received  half  a  dozen 
minor  officials,  and  his  manner  of  quiet  dignity  and  con- 
scious power  recalled  accounts  of  the  Mongol  princes 
as  Marco  Polo  saw  them.  Loobitsan  liked  foreigners 
and  one  could  always  find  a  cordial  reception  in  his 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  LAMA  CITY        141 

compound.  He  spoke  excellent  Chinese  and  was  un- 
usually well  educated  for  a  Mongol. 

Although  he  was  in  charge  of  the  customs  station 
at  Mai-ma-cheng<  and  owned  considerable  property, 
which  he  rented  to  the  Chinese  for  vegetable  gardens, 
his  chief  wealth  was  in  horses.  In  Mongolia  a  man's 
worldly  goods  are  always  measured  in  horses,  not  in 
dollars.  When  he  needs  cash  he  sells  a  pony  or  two 
and  buys  more  if  he  has  any  surplus  silver.  His  bank 
is  the  open  plain;  his  herdsmen  are  the  guardians  of 
his  riches. 

Loobitsan's  wife,  the  duchess,  was  a  nice-looking 
woman  who  seemed  rather  bored  with  life.  She  re- 
joiced in  two  gorgeous  strings  of  pearls,  which  on  state 
occasions  hung  from  the  silver-encrusted  horns  of  hair 
to  the  shoulders  of  her  brocade  jacket.  Ordinarily  she 
appeared  in  a  loose  red  gown  and  hardly  looked  regal. 

Loobitsan  had  never  seen  Peking  and  was  anxious 
to  go.  When  General  Hsu  Shu-tseng  made  his  coup 
d'etat  in  November,  1919,  Mr.  Larsen  and  Loobitsan 
came  to  the  capital  as  representatives  of  the  Hutukhtu, 
and  one  day,  as  my  wife  was  stepping  into  a  millinery 
shop  on  Rue  Marco  Polo,  she  met  him  dressed  in  all 
his  Mongol  splendor.  But  he  was  so  closely  chap- 
eroned by  Chinese  officials  that  he  could  not  enjoy  him- 
self. I  saw  Larsen  not  long  afterward,  and  he  told  me 
that  Loobitsan  was  already  pining  for  the  open  plains 
of  his  beloved  Mongolia. 

In  mid-July,  when  we  returned  to  Urga,  the  vege- 
table season  was  at  its  height.     The  Chinese,  of  course, 


142  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

do  all  the  gardening;  and  the  splendid  radishes,  beets, 
onions,  carrots,  cabbages,  and  beans,  which  were 
brought  every  day  to  market,  showed  the  wonderful 
possibilities  for  development  along  these  lines.  North 
of  the  Bogdo-ol  there  is  a  superabundance  of  rain  and 
vegetables  grow  so  rapidly  in  the  rich  soil  that  they 
are  deliciously  sweet  and  tender,  besides  being  of  enor- 
mous size.  While  we  were  on  the  plains  our  food  had 
consisted  largely  of  meat  and  we  reveled  in  the  change 
of  diet.  We  wished  often  for  fruit  but  that  is  non- 
existent in  Mongolia  except  a  few,  hard,  watery  pears, 
which  merchants  import  from  China. 

Mr.  Larsen  was  in  Kalgan  for  the  summer  but  Mr. 
Olufsen  turned  over  his  house  and  compound  for  our 
work.  I  am  afraid  we  bothered  him  unmercifully,  yet 
his  good  nature  was  unfailing  and  he  was  never  too 
busy  to  assist  us  in  the  innumerable  details  of  packing 
the  specimens  we  had  obtained  upon  the  plains  and  in 
preparing  for  our  trip  into  the  forests  north  of  Urga. 
It  is  men  like  him  who  make  possible  scientific  work 
in  remote  corners  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XI 

MONGOLS  AT  HOME 

Until  we  left  Urga  the  second  time  Mongolia,  to  us, 
had  meant  only  the  Gobi  Desert  and  the  boundless, 
rolling  plains.  When  we  set  our  faces  northward  we 
found  it  was  also  a  land  of  mountains  and  rivers,  of 
somber  forests  and  gorgeous  flowers. 

A  new  forest  always  thrills  me  mightily.  Be  it  of 
stately  northern  pines,  or  a  jungle  tangle  in  the  trop- 
ics, it  is  so  filled  with  glamour  and  mystery  that  I  enter 
it  with  a  delightful  feeling  of  expectation.  There  is 
so  much  that  is  concealed  from  view,  it  is  so  pregnant 
with  the  possibility  of  surprises,  that  I  am  as  excited 
as  a  child  on  Christmas  morning. 

The  forests  of  Mongolia  were  by  no  means  disap- 
pointing. We  entered  them  just  north  of  Urga  where 
the  Siberian  life  zone  touches  the  plains  of  the  central 
Asian  region  and  the  beginnings  of  a  new  fauna  are 
sharply  delineated  by  the  limit  of  the  trees.  We  had 
learned  that  the  Terelche  River  would  offer  a  fruitful 
collecting  ground.  It  was  only  forty  miles  from  Urga 
and  the  first  day's  trip  was  a  delight.  We  traveled 
northward  up  a  branch  valley  enclosed  by  forested  hills 
and  carpeted  with  flowers.     Never  had  we  seen  such 

flowers!    Acre  after  acre  of  bluebells,  forget-me-nots, 

143 


144  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

daisies,  buttercups,  and  cowslips  converted  the  entire 
valley  into  a  vast  "old-fashioned  garden,"  radiantly- 
beautiful.  Our  camp  that  night  was  at  the  base  of  a 
mountain  called  the  Da  Wat  which  shut  us  off  from 
the  Terelche  River. 

On  the  second  morning,  instead  of  golden  sunshine, 
we  awoke  to  a  cloud-hung  sky  and  floods  of  rain.  It 
was  one  of  those  days  when  everything  goes  wrong; 
when  with  all  your  heart  you  wish  to  swear  but  instead 
you  must  smile  and  smile  and  keep  on  smiling.  No  one 
wished  to  break  camp  in  the  icy  deluge  but  there  were 
three  marshes  between  us  and  the  Terelche  River  which 
were  bad  enough  in  dry  weather.  A  few  hours  of  rain 
would  make  them  impassable,  perhaps  for  weeks. 

My  wife  and  I  look  back  upon  that  day  and  the  next 
as  one  of  our  few,  real  hardships.  After  eight  hours 
of  kilhng  work,  wet  to  the  skin  and  almost  frozen,  we 
crossed  the  first  dangerous  swamp  and  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  the  mountain.  Then  the  cart,  with  our  most  val- 
uable possessions,  plunged  off  the  road  on  a  sharp  de- 
scent and  crashed  into  the  forest  below.  Chen  and  I 
escaped  death  by  a  miracle  and  the  other  Chinese  taxi- 
dermist, who  was  safe  and  sound,  promptly  had  hys- 
terics. It  was  discouraging,  to  say  the  least.  We 
camped  in  the  gathering  darkness  on  a  forty-five-de- 
gree slope  in  mud  twelve  inches  deep.  Next  day  we 
gathered  up  our  scattered  belongings,  repaired  the  cart, 
and  reached  the  river, 

I  had  a  letter  from  Duke  Loobitsan  Yangsen  to  a 
famous  old  hunter,  Tserin  Dorchy  by  name,  who  lives 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  145 

in  the  Terelche  region.  He  had  been  gone  for  six  days 
on  a  shooting  trip  when  we  came  into  the  beautiful  val- 
ley where  his  yurts  were  pitched,  but  his  wife  welcomed 
us  with  true  Mongolian  hospitality  and  a  great  dish  of 
cheese.  Our  own  camp  we  made  just  within  the  for- 
est, a  mile  away. 

For  a  week  we  hunted  and  trapped  in  the  vicinity, 
awaiting  Tserin  Dorchy's  return.  Our  arrival  created 
a  deal  of  interest  among  the  half  dozen  families  in  the 
neighborhood  and,  after  each  had  paid  a  formal  call, 
they  apparently  agreed  that  we  were  worthy  of  being 
accepted  into  their  community.  We  were  nomads  for 
the  time,  just  as  they  are  for  life.  We  had  pitched 
our  tents  in  the  forest,  as  they  had  erected  their  yurts 
in  the  meadow  beside  the  river.  When  the  biting  winds 
of  winter  swept  the  valley  a  few  months  later  they 
would  move,  with  all  their  sheep  and  goats,  to  the  shel- 
ter of  the  hills  and  we  would  seek  new  hunting 
grounds. 

Before  many  days  we  learned  all  the  valley  gossip. 
Moreover,  we  furnished  some  ourselves  for  one  of  the 
Chinese  taxidermists  became  enamored  of  a  Mongol 
maiden.  There  were  two  of  them,  to  be  exact,  and  they 
both  "vamped"  him  persistently.  The  toilettes  with 
which  they  sought  to  allure  him  were  marvels  of  bril- 
liance, and  one  of  them  actually  scrubbed  her  little  face 
and  hands  with  a  cake  of  my  yellow,  scented  soap. 

Our  servant's  affections  finally  centered  upon  the 
younger  girl  and  I  smiled  paternally  upon  the  wild- 
wood  romance.    Every  night,  with  a  sheepish  grin, 


146       '         ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Chen  would  ask  to  borrow  a  pony.  The  responsibili- 
ties of  chaperones  sat  lightly  on  our  shoulders,  but 
sometimes  my  wife  and  I  would  wander  out  to  the  edge 
of  the  forest  and  watch  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 
Usually  his  love  was  waiting  and  they  would  ride  off 
together  in  the  moonlight — ^where,  we  never  asked! 

But  we  could  not  blame  the  boy — ^those  Mongolian 
nights  were  made  for  lovers.  The  marvel  of  them  we 
hold  among  our  dearest  memories.  Wherever  we  may 
be,  the  fragrance  of  pine  trees  or  the  sodden  smell  of  a 
marsh  carries  us  back  in  thought  to  the  beautiful  valley 
and  fills  our  hearts  again  with  the  glory  of  its  clear, 
white  nights. 

No  matter  what  the  day  brought  forth,  we  looked 
forward  to  the  evening  hunt  as  best  of  all.  As  we 
trotted  our  ponies  homeward  through  the  fresh,  damp 
air  we  could  watch  the  shadows  deepen  in  the  somber 
masses  of  the  forest,  and  on  the  hilltops  see  the  ragged 
silhouettes  of  sentinel  pines  against  the  rose  glow  of 
the  sky.  Ribbons  of  mist,  weaving  in  and  out  above  the 
stream,  clothed  the  alders  in  ghostly  silver  and  rested 
in  billowy  masses  upon  the  marshes.  Ere  the  moon 
had  risen,  the  stars  blazed  out  like  tiny  lanterns  in  the 
sky.     Over  all  the  valley  there  was  peace  unutterable. 

We  were  soon  admitted  to  a  delightful  comradeship 
with  the  Mongols  of  our  valley.  We  shared  their  joys 
and  sorrows  and  nursed  their  minor  ills.  First  to  seek 
our  aid  was  the  wife  of  the  absent  hunter,  Tserin 
Dorchy.  She  rode  up  one  day  with  a  two-year-old 
baby  on  her  arm.     The  little  fellow  was  badly  infected 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  147 

with  eczema,  and  for  three  weeks  one  of  the  lamas  in 
the  tiny  temple  near  their  yurt  had  been  mumbling 
prayers  and  incantations  in  his  behalf,  without  avail. 
Fortunately,  I  had  a  supply  of  zinc  ointment  and  be- 
fore the  month  was  ended  the  baby  was  almost  well. 
Then  came  the  lama  with  his  bill  "for  services  ren- 
dered," and  Tserin  Dorchy  contributed  one  hundred 
dollars  to  his  priestly  pocket.  A  young  Mongol  with 
a  dislocated  shoulder  was  my  next  patient,  and  when 
I  had  made  him  whole,  the  lama  again  claimed  the 
credit  and  collected  fifty  dollars  as  the  honorarium  for 
his  prayers.  And  so  it  continued  throughout  the  sum- 
mer; I  made  the  cures,  and  the  priest  got  the  fees. 

Although  the  Mongols  all  admitted  the  efficacy  of 
my  foreign  medicines,  nevertheless  they  could  not  bring 
themselves  to  dispense  with  the  lama  and  his  prayers. 
Superstition  was  too  strong  and  fear  that  the  priest 
would  send  an  army  of  evil  spirits  flocking  to  their 
yurts  if  they  offended  him  brought  the  money,  albeit 
reluctantly,  from  their  pockets.  Although  the  lama 
never  proposed  a  partnership  arrangement,  as  I  thought 
he  might  have  done,  he  spent  much  time  about  our 
camp  and  often  brought  us  bowls  of  curded  milk  and 
cheese.  He  was  a  wandering  priest  and  not  a  perma- 
nent resident  of  the  valley,  but  he  evidently  decided 
not  to  wander  any  farther  until  we,  too,  should  leave, 
for  he  was  with  us  until  the  very  end. 

A  short  time  after  we  had  made  our  camp  near  the 
Terelche  River  a  messenger  arrived  from  Urga  with 
a  huge  package  of  mail.     In  it  was  a  copy  of  Harper's 


148  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Magazine  containing  an  account  of  a  flying  visit  which 
I  had  made  to  Urga  in  September,  1918.^  There  were 
half  a  dozen  Mongols  near  our  tent,  among  whom  was 
Madame  Tserin  Dorchy.  I  explained  the  pictures  to 
the  hunter's  wife  in  my  best  Chinese  while  Yvette 
"stood  by"  with  her  camera  and  watched  results.  Al- 
though the  woman  had  visited  Urga  several  times  she 
had  never  seen  a  photograph  or  a  magazine  and  for  ten 
minutes  there  was  no  reaction.  Then  she  recognized 
a  Mongol  headdress  similar  to  her  own.  With  a  gasp 
of  astonishment  she  pointed  it  out  to  the  others  and 
burst  into  a  perfect  torrent  of  guttural  expletives.  A 
picture  of  the  great  temple  at  Urga,  where  she  once 
had  gone  to  worship,  brought  forth  another  volume  of 
Mongolian  adjectives  and  her  friends  literally  fought 
for  places  in  the  front  row. 

News  travels  quickly  in  Mongolia  and  during  the 
next  week  men  and  women  rode  in  from  yurts  forty  or 
fifty  miles  away  to  see  that  magazine.  I  will  venture 
to  say  that  no  American  publication  ever  received  more 
appreciation  or  had  a  more  picturesque  audience  than 
did  that  copy  of  Harper's. 

The  absent  Tserin  Dorchy  returned  one  day  when  I 
was  riding  down  the  valley  with  his  wife.  We  saw  two 
strange  figures  on  horseback  emerging  from  the  for- 
est, each  with  a  Russian  rifle  on  his  back.  Their  sad- 
dles were  strung  about  with  half -dried  skins — four  roe- 
buck, a  musk  deer,  a  moose,  and  a  pair  of  elk  antlers 
in  the  "velvet." 

*  Hatrper'9  Magazine,  June,  191^,  pp.  1-16. 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  149 

With  a  joyful  shout  Madame  Tserin  Dorchy  rode 
toward  her  husband.'  He  was  an  oldish  man,  of  fifty- 
five  years  perhaps,  with  a  face  as  dried  and  weather- 
beaten  as  the  leather  beneath  his  saddle.  He  may  have 
been  glad  to  see  her  but  his  only  sign  of  greeting  was 
a  ''sci"  and  a  nod  to  include  us  both.  Her  pleasure 
was  undisguised,  however,  and  as  we  rode  down  the 
valley  she  chattered  volubly  between  the  business  of 
driving  in  half  a  dozen  horses  and  a  herd  of  sheep. 
The  monosyllabic  replies  of  the  hunter  were  delivered 
in  a  voice  which  seemed  to  come  from  a  long  way  off 
or  from  out  of  the  earth  beneath  his  pony's  feet.  I 
was  interested  to  see  what  greeting  there  would  be 
upon  his  arrival  at  the  ywrt.  His  two  daughters  and 
his  infant  son  were  waiting  at  the  door  but  he  had  not 
even  a  word  for  them  and  only  a  pat  upon  the  head  for 
the  baby. 

All  Mongols  are  independent  but  Tserin  Dorchy 
was  an  extreme  in  every  way.  He  ruled  the  half  dozen 
famihes  in  the  valley  like  an  autocrat.  What  he  com- 
manded was  done  without  a  question.  I  was  anxious 
to  get  away  and  announced  that  we  would  start  the 
day  after  his  arrival.  "No,"  said  he,  "we  will  go  two 
days  from  now."  Argument  was  of  no  avail.  So  far 
as  he  was  concerned,  the  matter  was  closed.  When  it 
came  to  arranging  wages  he  stated  his  terms,  which 
were  exorbitant.  I  could  accept  them  or  not  as  I 
pleased;  he  would  not  reduce  his  demands  by  a  single 
copper. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  offers  of  money  make  little  im- 


150  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

pression  upon  the  ordinary  Mongols.  They  produce 
well-nigh  everything  they  need  for  they  dress  in  sheep- 
skins during  the  winter  and  eat  little  else  than  mutton. 
When  they  want  cloth,  tea,  or  ammunition,  they  simply 
sell  a  sheep  or  a  pony  or  barter  with  the  Chinese  mer- 
chants. 

We  found  that  the  personal  equation  enters  very 
largely  into  any  dealings  with  a  Mongol.  If  he  likes 
you,  remuneration  is  an  incident.  If  he  is  not  inter- 
ested, money  does  not  tempt  him.  His  independence 
is  a  product  of  the  wild,  free  life  upon  the  plains.  He 
relies  entirely  upon  himself  for  he  has  learned  that  in 
the  struggle  for  existence,  it  is  he  himself  that  counts. 
Of  the  Chinaman,  the  opposite  is  true.  His  life  is  one 
of  the  community  and  he  depends  upon  his  family  and 
his  village.  He  is  gregarious  above  all  else  and  he 
hates  to  live  alone.  In  this  dependence  upon  his  fellow 
men  he  knows  that  money  counts — and  there  is  very 
little  that  a  Chinaman  will  not  do  for  money. 

On  one  of  his  trips  across  Mongolia,  Mr.  Coltman's 
car  became  badly  mired  within  a  stone's  throw  of  a 
Mongol  yurt.  Two  or  three  oxen  were  grazing  in 
front  of  the  house  and  Coltman  asked  the  native  to 
pull  his  car  out  of  the  mud.  The  Mongol,  who  was 
comfortably  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  sun,  was  not  at 
all  interested  in  the  matter,  but  finally  remarked  cas- 
ually that  he  would  do  it  for  eight  dollars.  There  was 
no  argument.  Eight  dollars  was  what  he  said,  and 
eight  dollars  it  would  have  to  be  or  he  would  not  move. 
The   entire   operation  of  dragging  the   car  to  firm 


\ 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  151 

ground  consumed  just  four  minutes.  But  this  instance 
was  an  exception  for  usually  a  Mongol  is  the  very 
essence  of  good  nature  and  is  ready  to  assist  whenever 
a  traveler  is  in  difficulty. 

Tserin  Dorchy's  independence  kept  us  in  a  constant 
state  of  irritation  for  it  was  manifested  in  a  dozen 
different  ways.  We  would  gladly  have  dispensed  with 
his  services  but  his  word  was  law  in  the  community 
and,  if  he  had  issued  a  "bull"  against  us,  we  could  not 
have  obtained  another  man.  For  all  his  age,  he  was 
an  excellent  hunter  and  we  came  to  be  good  friends. 

The  old  man's  independence  once  led  him  into  seri- 
ous trouble.  He  had  often  looked  at  the  Bogdo-ol 
with  longing  eyes  and  had  made  short  excursions,  with- 
out his  gun,  into  its  sacred  forests.  On  one  of  these 
trips  he  saw  a  magnificent  elk  with  antlers  such  as  he 
had  never  dreamed  were  carried  by  any  living  animal. 
He  could  not  forget  that  deer.  Its  memory  was  a 
thorn  that  pricked  him  wherever  else  he  hunted.  Fi- 
nally he  determined  to  have  it,  even  if  Mongolian  law 
and  the  Lama  Church  had  proclaimed  it  sacred. 

Toward  the  end  of  July,  when  he  deemed  the  antlers 
just  ripe  for  plucking,  he  slipped  into  the  forest  dur- 
ing the  night  and  climbed  the  mountain.  After  two 
days  he  killed  the  elk.  But  the  lamas  who  patrol 
"God's  Mountain"  had  heard  the  shot  and  drove  him 
into  a  great  rock-strewn  gorge  where  they  lost  his 
trail.  Believing  that  he  was  still  within  hearing  dis- 
tance, they  shouted  to  one  another  that  it  was  useless 
to  hunt  longer  and  that  they  had  best  return.     Then 


16«  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

they  concealed  themselves  and  awaited  results.  An 
hour  later  Tserin  Dorchy  crawled  out  from  under  a 
bowlder  directly  into  their  hands. 

He  had  been  well-nigh  killed  before  the  lamas 
brought  him  down  to  Urga  and  was  still  unconscious 
when  they  dumped  him  unceremoniously  into  one  of 
the  prison  coffins.  He  was  sentenced  to  remain  a  year; 
but  the  old  man  would  not  have  lived  a  month  if  Duke 
Loobitsan  Yangsen,  with  whom  he  had  often  hunted, 
had  not  obtained  his  release.  His  independent  spirit 
is  by  no  means  chastened,  however,  and  I  feel  sure  that 
he  will  shoot  another  deer  on  the  Bogdo-ol  before  he 
diesl 

Three  days  after  his  return  home,  my  wife  and  I 
left  with  him  and  three  other  Mongols  on  our  first  real 
hunt.  Our  equipment  consisted  only  of  sleeping  bags 
and  such  food  as  could  be  carried  on  our  horses ;  it  was 
a  time  when  living  "close  to  nature"  was  really  neces- 
sary. Eight  miles  away  we  stopped  at  the  entrance 
to  a  tiny  valley.  By  arranging  a  bit  of  canvas  over  the 
low  branches  of  a  larch  tree  we  prepared  a  shelter  for 
ourselves  and  another  for  the  hunters. 

In  fifteen  minutes  camp  was  ready  and  a  fire  blaz- 
ing. When  a  huge  iron  basin  of  water  had  begun  to 
warm  one  of  the  Mongols  threw  in  a  handful  of  brick 
tea,  which  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  powdered  to- 
bacco. After  the  black  fluid  had  boiled  vigorously  for 
ten  minutes  each  one  filled  his  wooden  eating  bowl, 
put  in  a  great  chunk  of  rancid  butter,  and  then  a  quan- 
tity of  finely-ground  meal.     This  is  what  the  Tibetans 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  163 

call  isambUj  and  the  buttered  tea  was  prepared  exactly 
as  we  had  seen  the  Tibetans  make  it.  The  tsamha, 
however,  was  only  to  enable  them  to  "carry  on"  until 
we  killed  some  game;  for  meat  is  the  Mongols'  "staff 
of  life,"  and  they  care  little  for  anything  except  ani- 
mal food. 

The  evening  hunt  yielded  no  results.  Two  of  the 
Mongols  had  missed  a  bear,  I  had  seen  a  roebuck,  and 
the  old  man  had  lost  a  wounded  musk  deer  on  the  moun- 
tain ridge  above  the  camp.  But  the  game  was  there 
and  we  knew  where  to  find  it  on  the  morrow.  In  the 
gray  light  of  early  morning  Tserin  Dorchy  and  I  rode 
up  the  valley  through  the  dew-soaked  grass.  Once  the 
old  man  stopped  to  examine  the  rootings  of  a  ga-hai 
(wild  boar) ,  then  he  continued  steadily  along  the  stream 
bed.  In  the  half-gloom  of  the  forest  the  bushes  and 
trees  seemed  flat  and  colorless  but  suddenly  the  sun 
burned  through  an  horizon  cloud,  flooding  the  woods 
with  golden  light.  The  whole  forest  seemed  instantly  to 
awaken.  It  was  as  though  we  had  come  into  a  dimly 
lighted  room  and  touched  an  electric  switch.  The  trees 
and  bushes  assumed  a  dozen  subtle  shades  of  green, 
and  the  flowers  blazed  like  jewels  in  the  gorgeous  wood- 
land carpet. 

I  should  have  liked  to  spend  the  morning  in  the  for- 
est but  we  knew  the  deer  were  feeding  in  the  open.  On 
foot  we  climbed  upward  through  knee-high  grass  to  the 
summit  of  a  hill.  There  seemed  nothing  living  in  the 
meadow  but  as  we  walked  along  the  ridge  a  pair  of 
grouse  shot  into  the  air  followed  by  half  a  dozen  chicks 


164  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

which  buzzed  away  like  brown  bullets  to  the  shelter  of 
the  trees.  We  crossed  a  flat  depression  and  rested  for 
a  moment  on  a  rounded  hilltop.  Below  us  a  new  valley 
sloped  downward,  bathed  in  sunshine.  Tserin  Dorchy 
wandered  slowly  to  the  right  while  I  studied  the  edge 
of  a  marsh  with  my  glasses. 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  muffled  beat  of  hoofs.  Jerking 
the  glasses  from  my  eyes  I  saw  a  huge  roebuck,  crowned 
with  a  splendid  pair  of  antlers,  bound  into  view  not 
thirty  feet  away.  For  the  fraction  of  a  second  he 
stopped,  with  his  head  thrown  back,  then  dashed  along 
the  hillside.  That  instant  of  hesitation  gave  me  just 
time  to  seize  my  rifle,  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  yellow-red 
body  through  the  rear  sight,  and  fire  as  he  disappeared. 
Leaping  to  my  feet,  I  saw  four  slender  legs  waving  in 
the  air.  The  bullet  had  struck  him  in  the  shoulder  and 
he  was  down  for  good. 

My  heart  pounded  with  exultation  as  I  lifted  his  mag- 
nificent head.  He  was  the  finest  buck  I  had  ever  seen 
and  I  gloated  over  his  body  as  a  miser  handles  his  gold. 
And  gold,  shining  in  the  sunlight,  was  never  more  beau- 
tiful than  his  spotless  summer  coat. 

Right  where  he  lay  upon  the  hillside,  amid  a  veritable 
garden  of  bluebells,  daisies,  and  yellow  roses,  was  the 
setting  for  the  group  we  wished  to  prepare  in  the  Ameri- 
can Museum  of  Natural  History.  He  would  be  its  cen- 
tral figure  for  his  peer  could  not  be  found  in  all  Mon- 
golia. 

As  I  stood  there  in  the  brilliant  sunlight,  mentally 
planning  the  group,  I  thought  how  fortunate  I  was  to 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  165 

have  been  born  a  naturalist.  A  sportsman  shoots  a  deer 
and  takes  its  head;  later,  it  hangs  above  his  fireplace 
or  in  the  trophy  room.  If  he  be  one  of  imagination,  in 
years  to  come  it  will  bring  back  to  him  the  feel  of  the 
morning  air,  the  fragrance  of  the  pine  trees,  and  the 
wild  thrill  of  exultation  as  the  buck  went  down.  But 
it  is  a  memory  picture  only  and  limited  to  himself.  The 
mounted  head  can  never  bring  to  others  the  smallest 
part  of  the  joy  he  felt  and  the  scene  he  saw. 

The  naturalist  shares  his  pleasure  and,  after  all,  it  is 
largely  that  which  counts.  When  the  group  is  con- 
structed in  the  Museum  under  his  direction  he  can  see 
reproduced  with  fidelity  and  in  minutest  detail  this  hid- 
den corner  of  the  world.  He  can  share  with  thousands 
of  city  dwellers  the  joy  of  his  hunt  and  teach  them  some- 
thing of  the  animals  he  loves  and  the  lands  they  call 
their  own. 

To  his  scientific  training  he  owes  another  source  of 
pleasure.  Every  animal  is  a  step  in  the  solution  of  some 
one  of  nature's  problems.  Perhaps  it  is  a  new  discovery, 
a  species  unknown  to  science.  Asia  is  full  of  such  sur- 
prises— I  have  already  found  many.  Be  the  specimen 
large  or  small,  if  it  has  fallen  to  your  trap  or  rifle,  there 
is  the  thrill  of  knowing  that  you  have  traced  one  more 
small  line  on  the  white  portion  of  nature's  map. 

While  I  was  gazing ^at  the  fallen  buck  Tserin  Dorchy 
stood  like  a  statue  on  the  hilltop,  scanning  the  forest  and 
valley  with  the  hope  that  my  shot  had  disturbed  another 
animal.  In  a  few  moments  he  came  down  to  me.  The 
old  man  had  lost  some  of  his  accustomed  calm  and,  with 


166  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

thumb  upraised,  murmured,  ^'Saij  sai"  Then  he  gave, 
in  vivid  pantomime,  a  recital  of  how  he  suddenly  sur- 
prised the  buck  feeding  just  below  the  hill  crest  and 
how  he  had  seen  me  jerk  the  glasses  from  my  eyes  and 
shoot. 

Sitting  down  beside  the  deer  we  went  through  the 
ceremony  of  a  smoke.  Then  Tserin  Dorchy  eviscerated 
the  animal,  being  careful  to  preserve  the  heart,  liver, 
stomach,  and  intestines.  Like  all  other  Orientals  with 
whom  I  have  hunted,  the  Mongols  boiled  and  ate  the 
viscera  as  soon  as  we  reached  camp  and  seemed  to  con- 
sider them  an  especial  delicacy. 

Some  weeks  later  we  killed  two  elk  and  Tserin 
Dorchy  inflated  and  dried  the  intestines.  These  were  to 
be  used  as  containers  for  butter  and  mutton  fat.  After 
tanning  the  stomach  he  manufactured  from  it  a  bag  to 
contain  milk  or  other  liquids.  His  wife  showed  me  some 
really  beautiful  leather  which  she  had  made  from  roe- 
buck skins.  Tanning  hides  and  making  felt  were  the 
only  strictly  Mongolian  industries  which  we  observed 
in  the  region  visited  by  our  expedition.  The  Mongols 
do  a  certain  amount  of  logging  and  charcoal  burning 
and  in  the  autumn  they  cut  hay;  but  with  these  excep- 
tions we  never  saw  them  do  any  work  which  could  not 
be  done  from  horseback. 

Our  first  hunting  trip  lasted  ten  days  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing months  there  were  many  others.  We  became 
typical  nomads,  spending  a  day  or  two  in  some  secluded 
valley  only  to  move  again  to  other  hunting  grounds. 
For  the  time  we  were  Mongols  in  all  essentials.    The 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  167 

primitive  instincts,  which  lie  just  below  the  surface  in 
us  all,  responded  to  the  subtle  lure  of  nature  and  with- 
out an  effort  we  slipped  into  the  care-free  life  of  these 
children  of  the  woods  and  plains. 

We  slept  at  night  under  starlit  skies  in  the  clean,  fresh 
forest;  the  first  gray  light  of  dawn  found  us  stealing 
through  the  dew-soaked  grass  on  the  trail  of  elk,  moose, 
boar  or  deer;  and  when  the  sun  was  high,  like  animals, 
we  spent  the  hours  in  sleep  until  the  lengthening  shad- 
ows sent  us  out  again  for  the  evening  hunt.  In  those 
days  New  York  seemed  to  be  on  another  planet  and 
very,  very  far  away.  Happiness  and  a  great  peace  was 
ours,  such  as  those  who  dwell  in  cities  can  never  know. 

In  the  midst  of  our  second  hunt  the  Mongols  sud- 
denly announced  that  they  must  return  to  the  Terelche 
Valley.  We  did  not  want  to  go,  but  Tserin  Dorchy 
was  obdurate.  With  the  limited  Chinese  at  our  com- 
mand we  could  not  learn  the  reason,  and  at  the  base 
camp  Lii,  *'the  interpreter,"  was  wholly  incoherent. 
"To-morrow,  plenty  Mongol  come,"  he  said.  "Riding 
pony,  all  same  Peking.  Two  men  catch  hold,  both  fall 
down."  My  wife  was  perfectly  sure  that  he  had  lost  his 
mind,  but  by  a  flash  of  intuition  I  got  his  meaning.  It 
was  to  be  a  field  meet.  "Riding  pony,  all  same  Peking" 
meant  races,  and  "two  men  catch  hold,  both  fall  down" 
could  be  nothing  else  than  wrestling.  I  was  very  proud 
of  myself,  and  Lii  was  immensely  relieved. 

Athletic  contests  are  an  integral  part  of  the  life  of 
every  Mongol  community,  as  I  knew,  and  the  members 
of  our  valley  family  were  to  hold  their  annual  games. 


158  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

At  Urga,  in  June,  the  great  meet  which  the  Living  God 
blesses  with  his  presence  is  an  amazing  spectacle,  remi- 
niscent of  the  pageants  of  the  ancient  emperors.  All 
the  elite  of  Mongolia  gather  on  the  banks  of  the  Tola 
River,  dressed  in  their  most  splendid  robes,  and  the 
archery,  wrestling,  and  horse  racing  are  famous 
throughout  the  East. 

This  love  of  sport  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  char- 
acteristics of  the  Mongols.  It  is  a  common  ground  on 
which  a  foreigner  immediately  has  a  point  of  contact. 
The  Chinese,  on  the  contrary,  despise  all  forms  of  physi- 
cal exercise.  They  consider  it  "bad  form,"  and  they  do 
not  understand  any  sport  which  calls  for  violent  exer- 
tion. They  prefer  to  take  a  quiet  walk,  carrying  their 
pet  bird  in  a  cage  for  an  airing ;  to  play  a  game  of  cards ; 
or,  if  they  must  travel,  to  loll  back  in  a  sedan  chair,  with 
the  curtains  drawn  and  every  breath  of  air  excluded. 

The  Terelche  Valley  meet  was  held  on  a  flat  strip  of 
ground  just  below  our  camp.  As  my  wife  and  I  rode 
out  of  the  forest,  a  dozen  Mongols  swept  by,  gorgeous  in 
flaming  red  and  streaming  peacock  plumes.  They 
waved  a  challenge  to  us,  and  we  joined  them  in  a  wild 
race  to  a  flag  in  the  center  of  the  field.  On  the  side  of 
the  hill  sat  a  row  of  lamas  in  dazzling  yellow  gowns; 
opposite  them  were  the  judges,  among  whom  I  recog- 
nized Tserin  Dorchy,  though  he  was  so  bedecked,  be- 
hatted  and  beribboned  that  I  could  hardly  realize  that 
it  was  the  same  old  fellow  with  whom  we  had  lived  in 
camp.  (I  presume  if  he  saw  me  in  the  clothes  of  civi- 
lization he  would  be  equally  surprised.) 


MONGOLS  AT  HOME  169 

In  front  of  the  judges,  who  represented  the  most  re- 
spected laity  of  the  community,  were  bowls  of  cheese 
cut  into  tiny  cubes.  The  spectators  consisted  of  two 
groups  of  women,  who  sat  some  distance  apart  in  com- 
pact masses,  the  "horns"  of  their  headdresses  almost 
interlocked.  Their  costumes  were  marvels  of  brilliance. 
They  looked  like  a  flock  of  gorgeous  butterflies,  which 
had  alighted  for  a  moment  on  the  grass. 

The  first  race  consisted  of  about  a  dozen  ponies, 
ridden  by  fourteen-year-old  boys  and  girls.  They  swept 
up  the  valley  from  the  starting  point  in  full  run,  hair 
streaming,  and  uttering  wailing  yells.  The  winner  was 
led  by  two  old  Mongols  to  the  row  of  lamas,  before 
whom  he  prostrated  himself  twice,  and  received  a  hand- 
ful of  cheese.  This  he  scattered  broadcast,  as  he  was 
conducted  ceremoniously  to  the  judges,  from  whom  he 
returned  with  palms  brimming  with  bits  of  cheese. 

Finally,  all  the  contestants  in  the  races,  and  half  a 
dozen  of  the  Mongols  on  horseback,  lined  up  in  front 
of  the  priests,  each  one  singing  a  barbaric  chant.  Then 
they  circled  about  the  lamas,  beating  their  horses  until 
they  were  in  a  full  run.  After  the  race  came  wrestling 
matches.  The  contestants  sparred  for  holds  and  when 
finally  clinched,  each  with  a  grip  on  the  other's  waist- 
band, endeavored  to  obtain  a  fall  by  suddenly  heaving. 
When  the  last  wrestling  match  was  finished,  a  tall  Mon- 
gol raised  the  yellow  banner,  and  followed  by  every  man 
and  boy  on  horseback,  circled  about  the  seated  lamas. 
Faster  and  faster  they  rode,  yelling  like  demons,  and 
then  strung  off  across  the  valley  to  the  nearest  yurt. 


160  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Although  the  sports  in  themselves  were  not  remark- 
able, the  scene  was  picturesque  in  the  extreme.  Oppo- 
site to  the  grassy  hill  the  forest-clad  mountains  rose, 
tier  upon  tier,  in  dark  green  masses.  The  brilliant  yel- 
low lamas  faced  by  the  Mongols  in  their  blazing  robes 
and  pointed  yellow  hats,  the  women,  flashing  with  "jew- 
els" and  silver,  the  half -wild  chant,  and  the  rush  of 
horses,  gave  a  barbaric  touch  which  thrilled  and  fasci- 
nated us.  We  could  picture  this  same  scene  seven  hun- 
dred years  ago,  for  it  is  an  ancient  custom  which  has 
come  down  from  the  days  of  Kublai  Khan.  It  was  as 
though  the  veil  of  centuries  had  been  lifted  for  a  mo- 
ment to  allow  us  to  carry  away,  in  motion  pictures,  this 
drama  of  Mongolian  life. 


CHAPTER  XII 

NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST 

Three  days  after  the  field  meet  we  left  with  Tserin 
Dorchy  and  two  other  Mongols  for  a  wapiti  hunt.  We 
rode  along  the  Terelche  River  for  three  miles,  some- 
times splashing  through  the  soggy  edges  of  a  marsh,  and 
again  halfway  up  a  hillside  where  the  ground  was  firm 
and  hard;  then,  turning  west  on  a  mountain  slope,  we 
came  to  a  low  plateau  which  rolled  away  in  undulating 
sweeps  of  bush-land  between  the  edges  of  the  dark  pine 
woods.  It  was  a  truly  boreal  landscape ;  we  were  on  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  which  stretches  in  a  vast,  rolling  sea 
of  green  far  beyond  the  Siberian  frontier. 

From  the  summit  of  the  table-land  we  descended  be- 
tween dark  walls  of  pine  trees  to  a  beautiful  valley  filled 
with  parklike  openings.  Just  at  dark  Tserin  Dorchy 
turned  abruptly  into  the  stream  and  crossed  to  a  pretty 
grove  of  spruces  on  a  little  island  formed  by  two 
branches  of  the  river.  It  was  as  secluded  as  a  cavern, 
and  made  an  ideal  place  in  which  to  camp.  A  hundred 
feet  away  the  tent  was  invisible  and,  save  for  the  tiny 
wreaths  of  smoke  which  curled  above  the  tree-tops, 
there  was  no  sign  of  our  presence  there. 

After  dinner  Tserin  Dorchy  shouldered  a  pack  of 
skins  and  went  to  a  "salt  lick"  in  a  meadow  west  of  camp 

161 


162  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

to  spend  the  night.  He  returned  in  the  first  gray  light 
of  dawn,  just  as  I  was  making  coffee,  and  reported  that 
he  had  heard  wapiti  barking,  but  that  no  animals  had 
visited  the  lick.  He  directed  me  to  go  along  the  hill- 
sides north  of  camp,  while  the  Mongol  hunters  struck 
westward  across  the  mountains. 

I  had  not  been  gone  an  hour,  and  had  just  worked 
across  the  lower  end  of  a  deep  ravine,  when  I  heard  a 
wapiti  bark  above  and  behind  me.  It  was  a  hoarse  roar, 
exactly  like  a  roebuck,  except  that  it  was  deeper  toned 
and  louder.  I  was  thrilled  as  though  by  an  electric  cur- 
rent. It  seemed  very  far  away,  much  farther  than  it 
really  was,  and  as  I  crept  to  the  summit  of  a  ridge  a 
splendid  bull  wapiti  broke  through  the  underbrush.  He 
had  been  feeding  in  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  and  saw 
my  head  instantly  as  it  appeared  above  the  sky  line. 
There  was  no  chance  to  shoot  because  of  the  heavy 
cover;  and  even  when  he  paused  for  a  moment  on  the 
opposite  hillside  a  screen  of  tree  branches  was  in  my 
way. 

Absolutely  disgusted  with  myself,  I  followed  the  ani- 
mal's trail  until  it  was  lost  in  the  heavy  forest.  The 
wapiti  was  gone  for  good,  but  on  the  way  back  to  camp 
I  picked  up  a  roebuck  which  acted  as  some  balm  to  my 
injured  feelings. 

I  had  climbed  to  the  crest  of  the  mountains  enclosing 
the  valley  in  which  we  were  camped,  and  was  working 
slowly  down  the  rim  of  a  deep  ravine.  In  my  soft 
leather  moccasins  I  could  walk  over  the  springy  moss 
without  a  sound,  and  suddenly  saw  a  yellow-red  form 


NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST  163 

moving  about  in  a  luxurious  growth  of  grass  and  tinted 
leaves.  My  heart  missed  a  beat,  for  I  thought  it  was  a 
wapiti. 

Instantly  I  dropped  behind  a  bush  and,  as  the  animal 
moved  into  the  open,  I  saw  it  was  an  enormous  roebuck 
bearing  a  splendid  pair  of  antlers.  I  watched  him  for 
a  moment,  then  aimed  low  behind  the  foreleg  and  fired. 
The  deer  bounded  into  the  air  and  rolled  to  the  bottom 
of  the  ravine,  kicking  feebly;  my  bullet  had  burst  the 
heart.  It  was  one  of  the  few  times  I  have  ever  seen  an 
animal  instantly  killed  with  a  heart  shot  for  usually 
they  run  a  few  yards,  and  then  suddenly  collapse. 

The  buck  was  almost  as  large  as  the  first  one  I  had 
killed  with  Tserin  Dorchy  but  it  had  a  twisted  right 
antler.  Evidently  it  had  been  injured  during  the  ani- 
maFs  youth  and  had  continued  to  grow  at  right  angles 
to  the  head,  instead  of  straight  up  in  the  normal  way. 

When  I  reached  camp  I  found  Yvette  busily  picking 
currants  in  the  bushes  beside  the  stream.  Her  face  and 
hands  were  covered  with  red  stains  and  she  looked  like 
a  very  naughty  little  boy  who  had  run  away  from  school 
for  a  day  in  the  woods.  Although  blueberries  grew  on 
every  hillside,  we  never  found  strawberries,  such  as  the 
Russians  in  Urga  gather  on  the  Bogdo-ol,  and  only  one 
patch  of  raspberries  on  a  burned-off  mountain  slope. 
But  the  currants  were  delicious  when  smothered  in 
sugar. 

Yvette  and  I  rode  out  to  the  spot  where  I  had  killed 
the  roebuck  to  bring  it  in  on  Kublai  Khan  and  before 
we  returned  the  Mongol  hunters  had  reached  camp; 


164.  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

neither  of  them  had  seen  game  of  any  kind.  During 
the  day  we  discovered  some  huge  trout  in  the  stream 
almost  at  our  door.  We  had  no  hooks  or  lines,  but  the 
Mongols  devised  a  way  to  catch  the  fish  which  brought 
us  food,  although  it  would  have  made  a  sportsman 
shiver.  They  built  a  dam  of  stones  across  the  stream 
and  one  man  waded  slowly  along,  beating  the  water 
with  a  branch  to  drive  the  trout  out  of  the  pools  into  the 
ripples ;  then  we  dashed  into  the  water  and  tried  to  catch 
them  with  our  hands.  At  least  a  dozen  got  away  but  we 
secured  three  by  cornering  them  among  the  rocks. 

They  were  huge  trout,  nearly  three  feet  long.  Un- 
fortunately I  was  not  able  to  preserve  any  of  them  and 
I  do  not  know  what  species  they  represented.  The 
Mongols  and  Chinese  often  catch  the  same  fish  in  the 
Tola  River  by  means  of  nets  and  we  sometimes  bought 
them  in  Urga.  One,  which  we  put  on  the  scales,  weighed 
nine  pounds.  Although  Ted  MacCallie  tried  to  catch 
them  with  a  fly  at  Urga  he  never  had  any  success  but 
they  probably  would  take  live  bait. 

August  20  was  our  second  day  in  camp.  At  dawn 
I  was  awakened  by  the  patter  of  rain  on  the  tent  and 
soon  it  became  a  steady  downpour.  There  was  no  use 
in  hunting  and  I  went  back  to  sleep.  At  seven  o'clock 
Chen,  who  was  fussing  about  the  fire,  rushed  over  to  say 
that  he  could  see  two  wapiti  on  the  opposite  mountain. 
Yvette  and  I  scrambled  out  of  our  sleeping  bags  just 
in  time  to  see  a  doe  and  a  fawn  silhouetted  against  the 
sky  rim  as  they  disappeared  over  the  crest.  Half  an 
hour  later  they  returned,  and  I  tried  a  stalk  but  I  lost 


NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST  165 

them  in  the  fog  and  rain.  Tserin  Dorchy  believed  that 
the  animals  had  gone  into  a  patch  of  forest  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mountain.  We  tried  to  drive  them  out  but 
the  only  thing  that  appeared  was  a  four-year-old  roe- 
buck which  the  Mongol  killed  with  a  single  shot. 

We  had  ridden  up  the  mountain  by  zigzagging  across 
the  slope,  but  when  we  started  back  I  was  astounded  to 
see  Tserin  Dorchy  keep  to  his  saddle.  The  wet  grass 
was  so  slippery  that  I  could  not  even  stand  erect  and 
half  the  time  was  sliding  on  my  back,  while  Kublai  Khan 
picked  his  way  carefully  down  the  steep  descent.  The 
Mongol  never  left  his  horse  till  we  reached  camp. 
Sometimes  he  even  urged  the  pony  to  a  trot  and,  more- 
over, had  the  roebuck  strapped  behind  his  saddle.  I 
would  not  have  ridden  down  that  mountain  side  for  all 
the  deer  in  Mongolia! 

It  had  begun  to  rain  in  earnest  by  eleven  o'clock,  and 
we  spent  a  quiet  afternoon.  There  is  a  charm  about  a 
rainy  day  when  one  can  read  comfortably  and  let  it 
pour.  The  steady  patter  on  the  tent  gives  one  the  de- 
lightful sensation  of  immediately  escaping  extreme  dis- 
comfort. There  is  no  pleasure  in  being  warm  unless 
the  weather  is  cold;  and  one  never  realizes  how  agree- 
able it  is  to  be  dry  unless  the  day  is  wet.  This  day  was 
very  wet  indeed.  We  had  a  month's  accumulation  of 
unopened  magazines  which  a  Mongol  had  brought  to 
our  base  camp  just  before  we  left,  so  there  was  no  chance 
of  being  bored.  The  fire  had  been  built  half  under  a 
huge,  back-log  which  kept  a  cheery  glow  of  coals 
throughout   all   the   downpour,    and   Chen  made   us 


166  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

"chowdzea'' — delicious  little  balls  of  meat  mixed  with 
onions  and  seasoned  with  Chinese  sauce.  The  Mongols 
slept  and  ate  and  slept  some  more.  We  ate  and  slept 
and  read.    Therefore,  we  were  very  happy. 

The  weather  during  that  summer  in  the  forest  was  a 
source  of  constant  surprise  to  us.  We  had  never  seen 
such  rapid  changes  from  brilliant  sunshine  to  sheets  of 
rain.  For  an  hour  or  two  the  sky  might  stretch  above 
us  like  a  vast  blue  curtain  flecked  with  tiny  masses  of 
snow-white  clouds.  Suddenly,  a  leaden  blanket  would 
spread  itself  over  every  inch  of  celestial  space,  while  a 
rush  of  rain  and  wind  changed  the  forest  to  a  black  chaos 
of  writhing  branches  and  dripping  leaves.  In  fifteen 
minutes  the  storm  would  sweep  across  the  mountain 
tops,  and  the  sun  would  again  flood  our  peaceful  valley 
with  the  golden  light  of  early  autumn. 

For  autumn  had  already  reached  us  even  though  the 
season  was  only  mid- August.  It  was  like  October  in 
New  York,  and  we  had  nightly  frosts  which  withered  the 
countless  flowers  and  turned  the  leaves  to  red  and  gold. 
In  the  morning,  when  I  crossed  the  meadows  to  the 
forest,  the  grass  was  white  with  frost  and  crackled  be- 
neath my  feet  like  delicate  threads  of  spun  glass.  My 
moccasins  were  powdered  with  gleaming  crystals  of 
frozen  dew,  but  at  the  first  touch  of  sun  every  twig  and 
leaf  and  blade  of  grass  began  to  drip,  as  though  from  a 
heavy  rain.  My  feet  and  legs  waist-high  were  soaked 
in  half  an  hour,  and  at  the  end  of  the  morning  hunt  I 
was  as  wet  as  though  I  had  waded  a  dozen  rivers. 

One  cannot  move  on  foot  in  northern  MongoUa  with- 


NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST  167 

out  the  certainty  of  a  thorough  wetting.  When  the  sun 
has  dried  the  dew,  there  are  swamps  and  streamlets  in 
every  valley  and  even  far  up  the  mountain  slopes.  It 
is  the  heavy  rainfall,  the  rich  soil,  and  the  brilliant 
sunshine  that  make  northern  Mongolia  a  paradise  of 
luxurious  grass  and  flowers,  even  though  the  real  sum- 
mer lasts  only  from  May  till  August.  Then,  the  val- 
leys are  like  an  exquisite  garden  and  the  woods  are 
ablaze  with  color.  Bluebells,  their  stalks  bending  under 
the  weight  of  blossoms,  clothe  every  hillside  in  a  glorious 
azure  dress  bespangled  with  yellow  roses,  daisies,  and 
forget-me-nots.  But  I  think  I  like  the  wild  poppies 
best  of  all,  for  their  delicate,  fragile  beauty  is  wonder- 
fully appealing.  I  learned  to  love  them  first  in  Alaska, 
where  their  pale,  yellow  faces  look  up  happily  from  the 
storm-swept  hills  of  the  Pribilof  Islands  in  the  Bering 
Sea. 

Besides  its  flowers,  this  northern  country  is  one  of 
exceeding  beauty.  The  dark  green  forests  of  spruce, 
larch  and  pine,  broken  now  and  then  by  a  grove  of 
poplars  or  silver  birches,  the  secluded  valleys  and  the 
rounded  hills  are  strangely  restful  and  give  one  a  sense 
of  infinite  peace.  It  is  a  place  to  go  for  tired  nerves. 
Ragged  peaks,  towering  mountains,  and  yawning 
chasms,  splendid  as  they  are,  may  be  subtly  disturbing, 
engendering  a  feeling  of  restlessness  and  vague  depres- 
sion. There  is  none  of  this  in  the  forests  of  Mongolia. 
We  felt  as  though  we  might  be  happy  there  all  our  lives 
— the  mad  rush  of  our  other  world  seemed  very  far 
away  and  not  much  worth  while. 


168  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

As  yet  this  land  has  been  but  lightly  touched  by  the 
devastating  hand  of  man.  A  log  road  cuts  the  forest 
here  and  there  and  sometimes  we  saw  a  train  of  ox-carts 
winding  through  the  trees;  but  the  primitive  beauty  of 
the  mountains  remains  unmarred,  save  where  a  hillside 
has  been  swept  by  fire.  In  all  our  wanderings  through 
the  forests  we  saw  no  evidences  of  occupation  by  the 
Mongols  except  the  wood  roads  and  a  few  scattered 
charcoal  pits.  These  were  old  and  moss-grown,  and 
save  for  ourselves  the  valleys  were  deserted. 

One  morning  while  I  was  hunting  north  of  camp,  I 
heard  a  wapiti  roar  on  the  summit  of  a  mountain.  I 
found  its  tracks  in  the  soft  earth  of  a  game  trail  which 
wound  through  forest  so  dense  that  I  could  hardly  see 
a  dozen  yards.  As  I  stole  along  the  path  I  heard  a  sud- 
den sneeze  exactly  like  that  of  a  human  being  and  saw 
a  small,  dark  animal  dash  off  the  trail.  I  stopped  in- 
stantly and  slowly  sank  to  the  ground,  kneeling  mo- 
tionless, with  my  rifle  ready.  For  five  minutes  I 
remained  there — ^the  silence  of  the  forest  broken  only  by 
the  clucking  of  a  hazel  grouse  above  my  head.  Then 
came  that  sneeze  again,  sounding  even  more  human 
than  before.  I  heard  a  nervous  patter  of  tiny  hoofs, 
and  the  animal  sneezed  from  the  bushes  at  my  right.  I 
kept  as  motionless  as  a  statue,  and  the  sneezes  followed 
each  other  in  rapid  succession,  accompanied  by  im- 
patient stampings  and  gentle  rustlings  in  the  brush. 
Then  I  saw  a  tiny  head  emerge  from  behind  a  leafy 
screen  and  a  pair  of  brilliant  eyes  gazing  at  me  steadily. 


NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST  169 

Very,  very  slowly  I  raised  the  rifle  until  the  stock 
nestled  against  my  cheek;  then  I  fired  quickly. 

Running  to  the  spot  where  the  head  had  been  I  found 
a  beautiful  brown-gray  animal  lying  behind  a  bush.  It 
was  no  larger  than  a  half-grown  fawn,  but  on  either  side 
of  its  mouth  two  daggerlike  tusks  projected,  slender, 
sharp  and  ivory  white.  It  was  a  musk  deer — ^the  first 
living,  wild  one  I  had  ever  seen.  Even  before  I  touched 
the  body  I  inhaled  a  heavy,  not  unpleasant,  odor  of 
musk  and  discovered  the  gland  upon  the  abdomen.  It 
was  three  inches  long  and  two  inches  wide,  but  all  the 
hair  on  the  rump  and  belly  was  strongly  impregnated 
with  the  odor. 

These  little  deer  are  eagerly  sought  by  the  natives 
throughout  the  Orient,  as  musk  is  valuable  for  perfume. 
In  Urga  the  Mongols  could  sell  a  "pod"  for  five  dollars 
(silver)  and  in  other  parts  of  China  it  is  worth  con- 
siderably more.  When  we  were  in  Yiin-nan  we  fre- 
quently heard  of  a  musk  buyer  whom  the  Paris 
perfumer,  Pinaud,  maintained  in  the  remote  mountain 
village  of  Atunzi,  on  the  Tibetan  frontier. 

Because  of  their  commercial  value  the  little  animals 
are  relentlessly  persecuted  in  every  country  which  they 
inhabit  and  in  some  places  they  have  been  completely 
exterminated.  Those  in  Mongolia  are  particularly  dif- 
ficult to  kill,  since  they  live  only  on  the  mountain  sum- 
mits in  the  thickest  forests.  Indeed,  were  it  not  for  their 
insatiable  curiosity  it  would  be  almost  impossible  ever 
to  shoot  them. 

They  might  be  snared,  of  course,  but  I  never  saw  any 


170  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

traps  or  devices  for  catching  animals  which  the  Mon- 
gols used ;  they  seem  to  depend  entirely  upon  their  guns. 
This  is  quite  unlike  the  Chinese,  Koreans,  Manchus, 
Malays,  and  other  Orientals  with  whom  I  have  hunted, 
for  they  all  have  developed  ingenious  snares,  pitfalls 
and  traps. 

The  musk  sac  is  present  only  in  the  male  deer  and  is, 
of  course,  for  the  purpose  of  attracting  the  does.  Un- 
fortunately, it  is  not  possible  to  distinguish  the  sexes 
except  upon  close  examination,  for  both  are  hornless, 
and  as  a  result  the  natives  sometimes  kill  females  which 
they  would  prefer  to  leave  unmolested. 

The  musk  deer  use  their  tusks  for  fighting  and  also 
to  dig  up  the  food  upon  which  they  live.  I  frequently 
found  new  pine  cones  which  they  had  torn  apart  to  get 
at  the  soft  centers.  During  the  winter  they  develop  an 
exceedingly  long,  thick  coat  of  hair  which,  however,  is 
so  brittle  that  it  breaks  almost  like  dry  pine  needles; 
consequently,  the  skins  have  but  little  commercial  value. 

Late  one  rainy  afternoon  Tserin  Dorchy  and  I  rode 
into  a  beautiful  valley  not  far  from  where  we  were 
camped.  When  well  in  the  upper  end,  we  left  our  horses 
and  proceeded  on  foot  toward  the  summit  of  a  ridge  on 
which  he  had  killed  a  bear  a  month  earher. 

Motioning  me  to  walk  to  the  crest  of  the  ridge  from 
the  other  side,  the  old  man  vanished  like  a  ghost  among 
the  trees.  When  I  was  nearly  at  the  top  I  reached  the 
edge  of  a  small  patch  of  burned  forest.  In  the  half 
darkness  the  charred  stiunps  and  skeleton  trees  were  as 
black  as  ebony.    As  I  was  about  to  move  into  the  open 


NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST  171 

I  saw  an  object  which  at  first  seemed  to  be  a  curiously 
shaped  stump.  I  looked  at  it  casually,  then  something 
about  it  arrested  my  attention.  Suddenly  a  tail  switched 
nervously  and  I  realized  that  the  "stump"  was  an  enor- 
mous wild  boar  standing  head-on,  watching  me. 

I  fired  instantly,  but  even  as  I  pressed  the  trigger 
the  animal  moved  and  I  knew  that  the  bullet  would 
never  reach  its  mark.  But  my  brain  could  not  telegraph 
to  my  finger  quickly  enough  to  stop  its  action  and  the 
boar  dashed  away  unharmed.  It  was  the  largest  pig 
I  have  ever  seen.  As  he  stood  on  the  summit  of  the 
ridge  he  looked  almost  as  big  as  a  Mongol  pony.  It  was 
too  dark  to  follow  the  animal  so  I  returned  to  camp,  a 
very  dejected  man. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  forget  that  boar  and  I  sup- 
pose I  never  shall.  Later,  I  killed  others  but  they  can 
never  destroy  the  memory  of  that  enormous  animal  as 
he  stood  there  looking  down  at  me.  Had  I  realized  that 
it  was  a  pig  only  the  fraction  of  a  second  sooner  it  would 
have  been  a  different  story.  But  that  is  the  fortune  of 
shooting.  In  no  other  sport  is  the  line  between  success 
and  failure  so  closely  drawn;  of  course,  it  is  that  which 
makes  it  so  fascinating.  At  the  end  of  a  long  day's  hunt 
one  chance  may  be  given;  then  all  depends  on  a  clear 
eye,  a  steady  hand  and,  above  all,  judgment.  In  your 
action  in  that  single  golden  second  rests  the  success  or 
failure  of,  perhaps,  a  season's  trip.  You  may  have  trav- 
eled thousands  of  miles,  spent  hundreds  of  dollars,  and 
had  just  one  shot  at  the  "head  of  heads." 

Some  men  tell  me  that  they  never  get  excited  when 


172  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

they  hunt.  Thank  God,  I  do.  There  would  be  no  fun 
at  all  for  me  if  I  didm/t  get  excited.  But,  fortunately, 
it  all  comes  after  the  crucial  moment.  When  the  stock 
of  the  rifle  settles  against  my  cheek  and  I  look  across 
the  sights,  I  am  as  cold  as  steel.  I  can  shoot,  and  keep 
on  shooting,  with  every  brain  cell  concentrated  on  the 
work  in  hand  but  when  it  is  done,  for  better  or  worse, 
I  get  the  reaction  which  makes  it  all  worth  while. 

One  morning,  a  week  after  we  had  been  in  camp, 
Tserin  Dorchy  and  I  discovered  a  cow  and  a  calf  wapiti 
feeding  in  an  open  forest.  It  was  a  delight  to  see  how 
the  old  Mongol  stalked  the  deer,  slipping  from  tree  to 
bush,  sometimes  on  his  knees  or  flat  on  his  face  in  the 
soft  moss  carpet.  When  we  were  two  hundred  yards 
away  we  drew  up  behind  a  stump.  I  took  the  cow, 
while  Tserin  Dorchy  covered  the  calf  and  at  the  sound 
of  our  rifles  both  animals  went  down  for  good.  I  was 
glad  to  have  them  for  specimens  because  we  never  got 
a  shot  at  a  bull  in  Mongoha,  although  twice  I  lost  one 
by  the  merest  chance.  One  of  our  hunters  brought  in 
a  three-year-old  moose  a  short  time  after  we  got  the 
wapiti  and  another  had  a  long  chase  after  a  wounded 
bear. 

It  was  the  first  week  in  September  when  we  returned 
to  the  base  camp,  our  ponies  heavily  loaded  with  skins 
and  antlers.  The  Chinese  taxidermists  under  my  direc- 
tion had  made  a  splendid  collection  of  small  mammals, 
and  we  had  pretty  thoroughly  exhausted  the  resources 
of  the  forests  in  the  Terelche  region.    Therefore,  Yvette 


NOMADS  OF  THE  FOREST  173 

and  I  decided  that  it  would  be  well  to  ride  into  Urga 
and  make  arrangements  for  our  return  to  Peking. 

We  did  the  fifty  miles  with  the  greatest  ease  and 
spent  the  night  with  Mamen  in  Mai-ma-cheng.  Next 
day  Mr.  and  Mrs.  MacCallie  arrived,  much  to  our  de- 
light. They  were  to  spend  the  winter  in  Urga  on  busi- 
ness and  they  brought  a  supply  of  much  needed  am- 
munition, photographic  plates,  traps  and  my  Mann- 
licher  rifle.  This  equipment  had  been  shipped  from 
New  York  ten  months  earlier  but  had  only  just  reached 
Peking  and  been  released  from  the  Customs  through 
the  heroic  efforts  of  Mr.  Guptil. 

We  had  another  two  weeks'  hunting  trip  before  we 
said  good-by  to  Mongolia  but  it  netted  few  results. 
All  the  valleys,  which  had  been  deserted  when  we  were 
there  before,  were  filled  with  Mongols  cutting  hay  for 
the  winter  feed  of  their  sheep  and  goats.  Of  course, 
every  camp  was  guarded  by  a  dog  or  two,  and  their  con- 
tinual barking  had  driven  the  moose,  elk,  and  bear  far 
back  into  the  deepest  forests  where  we  had  no  time  to 
follow. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  MacCallie  had  taken  a  house  in  Urga, 
just  opposite  the  Russian  Consulate,  and  they  enter- 
tained us  while  I  packed  our  collections  which  were 
stored  in  Andersen,  Meyer's  godown.  It  was  a  full 
week's  work,  for  we  had  more  than  a  thousand  speci- 
mens. The  forests  of  Mongolia  had  yielded  up  their 
treasures  Ss  we  had  not  dared  to  hope  they  would,  and 
we  left  them  with  almost  as  much  regret  as  we  had  left 
the  plains. 


174  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

October  first  the  specimens  started  southward  on 
camel  back.  Kublai  Khan,  my  pony,  went  with  them, 
while  we  left  in  the  Chinese  Government  motor  cars. 
For  two  hundred  miles  we  rushed  over  the  same  plains 
which,  a  few  months  earlier,  we  had  laboriously  crossed 
with  our  caravan.  Every  spot  was  pregnant  with  de- 
lightful memories.  At  this  well  we  had  camped  for  a 
week  and  hunted  antelope ;  in  that  ragged  mass  of  rocks 
we  had  killed  a  wolf;  out  on  the  Turin  plain  we  had 
trapped  twenty-six  marmots  in  an  enormous  colony. 

Those  had  been  glorious  days  and  our  hearts  were  sad 
as  we  raced  back  to  Peking  and  civilization.  But  one 
bright  spot  remained — we  need  not  yet  leave  our  be- 
loved East !  Far  to  the  south,  in  brigand-infested  moun- 
tains on  the  edge  of  China,  there  dwelt  a  herd  of  bighorn 
sheep,  the  argali  of  the  Mongols.  Among  them  was  a 
great  ram,  and  we  had  learned  his  hiding  place.  How 
we  got  him  is  another  story. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  PASSING  OF  MONGOLIAN  MYSTERY 

I  know  of  no  other  country  about  which  there  is  so 
much  misinformation  as  about  Mongolia.  Because 
the  Gobi  Desert  stretches  through  its  center  the  popular 
conception  appears  to  be  that  it  is  a  waste  of  sand  and 
gravel  incapable  of  producing  anything.  In  the  pre- 
ceding chapters  I  have  attempted  to  give  a  picture  of 
the  country  as  we  found  it  and,  although  our  interests 
were  purely  zoological,  I  should  like  to  present  a  few 
notes  regarding  its  commercial  possibilities,  for  I  have 
never  seen  a  land  which  is  readily  accessible  and  is  yet  so 
undeveloped. 

Every  year  the  Far  East  is  becoming  increasingly  im- 
portant to  the  Western  World,  and  especially  to  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  for  China  and  its  depend- 
encies is  the  logical  place  for  the  investment  of  Ameri- 
can capital.  It  is  the  last  great  undeveloped  field,  and 
I  am  interested  in  seeing  the  American  business  man 
appreciate  the  great  opportunities  which  await  him  in 
the  Orient. 

It  is  true  that  the  Gobi  Desert  is  a  part  of  Mongolia, 

but  only  in  its  western  half  is  it  a  desolate  waste ;  in  the 

eastern  section  it  gradually  changes  into  a  rolling  plain 

covered  with  "Gobi  sage  brush"  and  short  bunch  grass. 

176 


176  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

When  one  looks  closely  one  sees  that  the  underlying  soil 
is  very  fine  gravel  and  sand. 

There  is  little  water  in  this  region  except  surface 
ponds,  which  are  usually  dry  in  summer,  and  caravans 
depend  upon  wells.  The  water  in  the  desert  area  con- 
tains some  alkali  but,  except  in  a  few  instances,  the 
impregnation  is  so  slight  that  it  is  not  especially  dis- 
agreeable to  the  taste.  Mr.  Larsen  told  me  that  there 
is  no  part  of  the  country  between  Kalgan  and  Urga  in 
which  water  cannot  be  found  within  ten  or  twenty  feet 
of  the  surface.  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  what  this  arid 
region  could  be  made  to  produce.  Doubtless,  from  the 
standpoint  of  agriculture  it  would  be  of  little  impor- 
tance but  sheep  and  goats  could  live  upon  its  summer 
vegetation,  I  am  sure. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  where  the  Gobi  really  begins  or 
ends  when  crossing  it  between  Kalgan  and  Urga,  for 
the  grasslands  both  on  the  south  and  north  merge  so  im- 
perceptibly into  the  arid  central  part  that  there  is  no 
real  "edge"  to  the  desert;  however,  it  is  safe  to  take 
Panj-kiang  as  the  southern  margin,  and  Turin  as  the 
northern  limit,  of  the  Gobi.  Both  in  the  north  and  south 
the  land  is  rich  and  fertile — ^much  like  the  plains  of  Si- 
beria or  the  prairies  of  Kansas  and  Nebraska. 

Such  is  the  eastern  Gobi  from  June  to  mid-Septem- 
ber. In  the  winter,  when  the  dried  vegetation  exposes 
the  surface  soil,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  country  is 
changed  and  then  it  does  resemble  the  popular  concep- 
tion of  a  desert.    But  what  could  be  more  desertlike 


THE  PASSING  OF  MONGOLIAN  MYSTERY     177 

than  our  north  China  landscape  when  frost  has  stripped 
away  the  green  clothing  of  its  hills  and  fields? 

The  Chinese  have  already  demonstrated  the  agricul- 
tural possibilities  in  the  south  and  every  year  they  reap 
a  splendid  harvest  of  oats,  wheat,  millet,  buckwheat  and 
potatoes.  On  the  grass-covered  meadowlands,  both 
north  and  south  of  the  Gobi,  there  are  vast  herds  of 
sheep,  goats,  cattle  and  horses,  but  they  are  only  a 
fraction  of  the  numbers  which  the  pasturage  could  sup- 
port. The  cattle  and  sheep  which  are  exported  through 
China  can  be  sent  to  Kalgan  "on  the  hoof,"  for  since 
grass  is  plentiful,  the  animals  can  graze  at  night  and 
travel  during  the  day.  This  very  materially  reduces  the 
cost  of  transportation. 

Besides  the  great  quantities  of  beef  and  mutton  which 
could  be  raised  and  marketed  in  the  Orient,  America 
or  Europe,  thousands  of  pounds  of  wool  and  camel  hair 
could  be  exported.  Of  course  both  of  these  articles  are 
produced  at  the  present  time,  but  only  in  limited  quanti- 
ties. In  the  region  where  we  spent  the  summer,  the 
Mongols  sometimes  do  not  shear  their  sheep  or  camels 
but  gather  the  wool  from  the  ground  when  it  has 
dropped  off  in  the  natural  process  of  shedding.  Prob- 
ably half  of  it  is  lost,  and  the  remainder  is  full  of  dirt 
and  grass  which  detracts  greatly  from  its  value.  More- 
over, when  it  is  shipped  the  impurities  add  at  least 
twenty  per  cent  to  its  weight,  and  the  high  cost  of  trans- 
portation makes  this  an  important  factor.  Indeed, 
under  proper  development  the  pastoral  resources  of 
Mongolia  are  almost  unlimited. 


178  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

The  Turin-Urga  region  has  another  commercial  asset 
in  the  enormous  colonies  of  marmots  which  inhabit  the 
country  for  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  north,  east  and 
west.  The  marmots  are  prolific  breeders — each  pair 
annually  producing  six  or  eight  young — and,  although 
their  fur  is  not  especially  fine,  it  has  always  been  valu- 
able for  coats.  Several  million  marmot  pelts  are  shipped 
every  year  from  Mongolia,  the  finest  coming  from 
Uliassutai  in  the  west,  and  were  American  steel  traps 
introduced  the  number  could  be  doubled. 

Urga  is  just  being  discovered  as  a  fur  market.  Many 
skins  which  have  been  taken  well  across  the  Russian 
frontier  are  sold  in  Urga,  and  as  the  trade  increases  it 
will  command  a  still  wider  area.  Wolves,  foxes,  lynx, 
bear,  wildcats,  sables,  martens,  squirrels  and  marmots 
are  brought  in  by  thousands;  and  great  quantities  of 
sheep,  goat,  cow  and  antelope  hides  are  sent  annually 
to  Kalgan.  Several  foreign  fur  houses  of  considerable 
importance  already  have  their  representatives  in  Urga 
and  more  are  coming  every  year.  The  possibilities  for 
development  in  this  direction  are  almost  boundless,  and 
I  believe  that  within  a  very  few  years  Urga  will  become 
one  of  the  greatest  fur  markets  of  the  Orient. 

As  in  the  south  the  Chinese  farmer  cultivates  the 
grasslands  of  the  Mongols,  so  in  the  north  the  Chinese 
merchant  has  assumed  the  trade.  Many  firms  in  Peking 
and  Tientsin  have  branches  in  Urga  and  make  huge 
profits  in  the  sale  of  food,  cloth  and  other  essentials  to 
the  Mongols  and  foreigners  and  in  the  export  of  furs, 
skins  and  wool.    It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  touch 


THE  PASSING  OF  MONGOLIAN  MYSTERY     179 

business  in  Mongolia  at  any  point  without  coming  in 
contact  with  the  Chinese. 

All  work  not  connected  with  animals  is  assumed  by 
Chinese,  for  the  Mongols  are  almost  useless  for  any- 
thing which  cannot  be  done  from  the  back  of  a  horse. 
Thus  the  Chinese  have  a  practical  monopoly  and  they 
exercise  all  their  prerogatives  in  the  enormous  prices 
which  they  charge  for  the  slightest  service.  Mongols 
and  foreigners  suffer  together  in  this  respect,  but  there 
is  no  alternative — ^the  Chinaman  can  charge  what  he 
pleases,  for  he  knows  full  well  that  no  one  else  will  do 
the  work. 

Although  there  is  considerable  mineral  wealth  in 
northern  Mongolia,  up  to  the  present  time  very  little 
prospecting  has  been  done.  For  several  years  a  Rus- 
sian company  has  carried  on  successful  operations  for 
gold  at  the  Yero  mines,  between  Urga  and  Kiakhta  on 
the  Siberian  frontier,  but  they  have  had  to  import  prac- 
tically all  their  labor  from  China.  We  often  passed 
Chinese  in  the  Gobi  Desert  walking  across  Mongolia 
pushing  a  wheelbarrow  which  contained  all  their  earthly 
belongings.  They  were  on  their  way  to  the  Yero  mines 
for  the  summer*s  work;  in  the  fall  they  would  return  on 
foot  the  way  they  had  come.  Now  that  Mongolia  is 
once  more  a  part  of  the  Chinese  Republic,  the  labor 
problem  probably  will  be  improved  for  there  will  cer- 
tainly be  an  influx  of  Chinese  who  are  anxious  to  work. 

Transportation  is  the  greatest  of  all  commercial  fac- 
tors in  the  Orient  and  upon  it  largely  depends  the  de- 
velopment of  any  country.    In  Mongolia  the  problem 


180  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

can  be  easily  solved.  At  the  present  time  it  rests  upon 
camel  caravans,  ox  and  pony  carts  and  upon  automo- 
biles for  passengers.  Camel  traffic  begins  in  September 
and  is  virtually  ended  by  the  first  of  June.  Then  their 
places  on  the  trail  are  taken  by  ox-  and  pony  carts. 
Camels  make  the  journey  from  Kalgan  to  Urga  in  from 
thirty  to  fifty  days,  but  the  carts  require  twice  as  long. 
They  travel  slowly,  at  best,  and  the  animals  must  be 
given  time  to  graze  and  rest.  Of  course,  they  cannot 
cross  the  desert  when  the  grass  is  dry,  so  that  transpor- 
tation is  divided  by  the  season — camels  in  winter  and 
carts  in  summer,  Each  camel  carries  from  four  hundred 
and  fifty  to  five  hundred  pounds,  and  the  charges  for 
the  journey  from  Kalgan  to  Urga  vary  with  conditions 
at  from  five  to  fifteen  cents  (silver)  per  cattie  (one  and 
one-third  pounds).  Thus,  by  the  time  goods  have 
reached  Urga,  their  value  has  increased  tremendously. 

I  can,  see  no  reason  why  motor  trucks  could  not  make 
the  trip  and  am  intending  to  use  them  on  my  next  expe- 
dition. Between  Panj-kiang  and  Turin,  the  first  and 
third  telegraph  stations,  there  is  some  bad  going  in 
spots,  but  a  well  made  truck  with  a  broad  wheel  base 
and  a  powerful  engine  certainly  could  negotiate  the 
sand  areas  without  difficulty.  After  Turin,  where  the 
Gobi  may  be  said  to  end,  the  road  is  like  a  boulevard. 

The  motor  service  for  passengers  which  the  Chinese 
Government  maintains  between  Kalgan  and  Urga  is  a 
branch  of  the  Peking-Suiyuan  Railway  and  has  proved 
successful  after  some  initial  difficulties  due  to  careless 
and  inexperienced  chauffeurs.     Although  the  service 


THE  PASSING  OF  MONGOLIAN  MYSTERY     181 

badly  needs  organization  to  make  it  entirely  safe  and 
comfortable,  still  it  has  been  effective  even  in  its  crude 
form. 

At  the  present  time  a  great  part  of  the  business 
which  is  done  with  the  Mongols  is  by  barter.  The  Chi- 
nese merchants  extend  credit  to  the  natives  for  material 
which  they  require  and  accept  in  return  cattle,  horses, 
hides,  wool,  etc.,  to  be  paid  at  the  proper  season.  In 
recent  years  Russian  paper  rubles  and  Chinese  silver 
have  been  the  currency  of  the  country,  but  since  the  war 
Russian  money  has  so  depreciated  that  it  is  now  prac- 
tically valueless.  Mongolia  greatly  needs  banking  fa- 
cilities and  under  the  new  political  conditions  undoubt- 
edly these  will  be  materially  increased. 

A  great  source  of  wealth  to  Mongolia  lies  in  her  mag- 
nificent forests  of  pine,  spruce,  larch  and  birch  which 
stretch  away  in  an  almost  unbroken  line  of  green  to  far 
beyond  the  Siberian  frontier.  As  yet  but  small  inroads 
have  been  made  upon  these  forests,  and  as  I  stood  one 
afternoon  upon  the  summit  of  a  mountain  gazing  over 
the  miles  of  timbered  hills  below  me,  it  seemed  as  though 
here  at  least  was  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  splendid 
lumber.  But  no  more  pernicious  term  was  ever  coined 
than  "inexhaustible  supply!"  I  wondered,  as  I  watched 
the  sun  drop  into  the  somber  masses  of  the  forest,  how 
long  these  splendid  hills  would  remain  inviolate.  Cer- 
tainly not  many  years  after  the  Gobi  Desert  has  been 
crossed  by  lines  of  steel,  and  railroad  sheds  have  re- 
placed the  gold-roofed  temples  of  sacred  Urga. 

We  are  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  days  of  flying, 


182  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

and  no  land  which  contains  such  magnificent  spruce  can 
keep  its  treasure  boxes  unspoiled  for  very  long.  Even 
as  I  write,  aeroplanes  are  waiting  in  Peking  to  make 
their  first  flight  across  Mongolia.  The  desert  nomads 
have  not  yet  ceased  to  wonder  at  the  motor  cars  which 
cover  as  many  miles  of  plain  in  one  day  as  their  camels 
cross  in  ten.  But  what  will  they  think  when  twenty  men 
leave  Kalgan  at  noon  and  dine  in  Urga  at  seven  o'clock 
that  night !  Seven  hundred  miles  mean  very  little  to  us 
now !  The  start  has  been  made  already  and,  after  all,  it 
is  largely  that  which  counts.  The  automobile  has  come 
to  stay,  we  know;  and  motor  trucks  will  soon  do  for 
freight  what  has  already  been  done  for  passengers,  not 
only  from  Kalgan  to  Urga,  but  west  to  Uliassutai,  and 
on  to  Kobdo  at  the  very  edge  of  the  Altai  Mountains. 
Few  spots  in  Mongolia  need  remain  untouched,  if  com- 
mercial calls  are  strong  enough. 

Last  year  the  first  caravans  left  Feng-chen  with 
wireless  equipment  for  the  eighteen  hundred  mile  jour- 
ney across  Mongolia  to  Urumchi  in  the  very  heart  of 
central  Asia.  Construction  at  Urga  is  well  advanced 
and  it  will  soon  begin  at  Kashgar.  When  these  stations 
are  completed  Kobdo  in  Mongolia,  Hami  in  Chinese 
Turkestan  and  Sian-fu  in  Shensi  will  see  wireless  shafts 
erected ;  and  old  Peking  will  be  in  touch  with  the  remot- 
est spots  of  her  far-flung  lands  at  any  time  by  day  or 
night. 

These  things  are  not  idle  dreams — ^they  are  hard  busi- 
ness facts  already  in  the  first  stages  of  accomplishment. 
Why,  then,  should  the  railroad  be  long  delayed?    It 


THE  PASSING  OF  MONGOLIAN  MYSTERY     183 

may  be  built  from  Kalgan  to  Urga,  or  by  way  of  Kwei- 
hua-cheng — either  route  is  feasible.  It  will  mean  a  di- 
rect connection  between  Shanghai,  China's  greatest 
port,  and  Verkhin  Udinsk  on  the  Trans-Siberian  Rail- 
road via  Tientsin,  Peking,  Kalgan,  Urga,  Kiakhta.  It 
will  shorten  the  trip  to  London  by  at  least  four  days  for 
passengers  and  freight.  It  will  open  for  settlement  and 
commercial  development  a  country  of  boundless  possi- 
bilities and  unknown  wealth  which  for  centuries  has  been 
all  but  forgotten. 

Less  than  seven  hundred  years  ago  Mongolia  well- 
nigh  ruled  the  world.  Her  people  were  strong  beyond 
belief,  but  her  empire  crumbled  as  quickly  as  it  rose, 
leaving  to  posterity  only  a  glorious  tradition  and  a  land 
of  mystery.  The  tradition  will  endure  for  centuries; 
but  the  motor  car  and  aeroplane  and  wireless  have  dis- 
pelled the  mystery  forever. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS 

Away  up  in  northern  China,  just  south  of  the  Mon- 
golian frontier,  is  a  range  of  mountains  inhabited  by- 
bands  of  wild  sheep.  They  are  wonderful  animals, 
these  sheep,  with  horns  like  battering-rams.  But  the 
mountains  are  also  populated  by  brigands  and  the  two 
do  not  form  an  agreeable  combination  from  the  sports- 
man's standpoint. 

In  reality  they  are  perfectly  nice,  well-behaved  brig- 
ands, but  occasionally  they  forget  their  manners  and 
swoop  down  upon  the  caravan  road  less  than  a  dozen 
miles  away.  This  is  done  only  when  scouts  bring  word 
that  cargo  valuable  enough  to  make  it  worth  while  is 
about  to  pass.  Each  time  the  brigands  make  a  foray 
a  return  raid  by  Chinese  soldiers  can  be  expected.  Oc- 
casionally these  are  real,  "honest-to-goodness"  fights, 
and  blood  may  flow  on  both  sides,  but  the  battle  some- 
times takes  a  different  form. 

With  bugles  blowing,  the  soldiers  march  out  to  the 
hills.  Through  "middle  men"  the  battle  ground  has 
been  agreed  upon,  and  a  "David"  is  chosen  from  the 
soldiers  to  meet  the  "Goliath"  of  the  brigands.  But 
David  is  particularly  careful  to  leave  his  gun  behind, 
and  to  have  his  "sling"  well  stuffed  with  rifle  shells. 

184 


X 


C     C      t  /  t      *  c  ,   c 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS    185 

Goliath  advances  to  the  combat  armed  only  with  a  bag 
of  silver  dollars.  Then  an  even  trade  ensues — a  dollar 
for  a  cartridge — and  the  implement  of  war  changes 
hands. 

The  soldiers  return  to  the  city  with  bugles  sounding 
as  merrily  as  when  they  left.  The  commander  sends  a 
report  to  Peking  of  a  desperate  battle  with  the  brig- 
ands. He  says  that,  through  the  extreme  valor  of  his 
soldiers,  the  bandits  have  been  dispersed  and  many 
killed;  that  hundreds  of  cartridges  were  expended  in 
the  fight ;  therefore,  kindly  send  more  as  soon  as  possible. 

All  this  because  the  government  has  an  unfortunate 
way  of  forgetting  to  pay  its  soldiers  in  the  outlying 
provinces.  When  no  money  is  forthcoming  and  none  is 
visible  on  the  horizon,  it  is  not  surprising  that  they  take 
other  means  to  obtain  it.  "Battles"  of  this  type  are  by 
no  means  exceptions — they  are  more  nearly  the  rule  in 
many  provinces  of  China. 

But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  wild  sheep?  Its 
relation  is  very  intimate,  for  the  presence  of  brigands  in 
those  Shansi  mountains  has  made  it  possible  for  the  ani- 
mals to  exist.  The  hunting  grounds  are  only  five  days' 
travel  from  Peking  and  many  foreigners  have  turned 
longing  eyes  toward  the  mountains.  But  the  brigands 
always  had  to  be  considered.  Since  Sir  Richard  Dane, 
formerly  Chief  Inspector  of  the  Salt  Gabelle,  and  Mr. 
Charles  Coltman  were  driven  out  by  the  bandits  in  1915, 
the  Chinese  Government  has  refused  to  grant  passports 
to  foreigners  who  wished  to  shoot  in  that  region.  The 
brigands  themselves  cannot  waste  cartridges  at  one  dol- 


186  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

lar  each  on  the  sheep,  so  the  animals  have  been  allowed 
to  breed  unmolested. 

Nevertheless,  there  are  not  many  sheep  there.  They 
are  the  last  survivors  of  great  herds  which  once  roamed 
the  mountains  of  north  China.  The  technical  name  of 
the  species  is  Ovis  commosa  (formerly  O.  jubata)  and 
it  is  one  of  the  group  of  bighorns  known  to  sportsmen 
by  the  Mongol  name  of  argali.  In  size,  as  well  as  ances- 
try, the  members  of  this  group  are  the  grandfathers  of 
all  the  sheep.  The  largest  ram  of  our  Rocky  Moun- 
tains is  a  pygmy  compared  with  a  full-grown  argali. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  years  ago  the  bighorns,  which 
originated  in  Asia,  crossed  into  Alaska  by  way  of  the 
Bering  Sea,  where  there  was  probably  a  land  connection 
at  that  time.  From  Alaska  they  gradually  worked 
southward,  along  the  mountains  of  the  western  coast, 
into  Mexico  and  Lower  California.  In  the  course  of 
time,  changed  environment  developed  different  species; 
but  the  migration  route  from  the  Old  World  to  the  New 
is  there  for  all  to  read. 

The  supreme  trophy  of  a  sportsman's  life  is  the  head 
of  a  Mongolian  bighorn  sheep.  I  think  it  was  Rex 
Beach  who  said,  "Some  men  can  shoot  but  not  climb. 
Some  can  climb  but  not  shoot.  To  get  a  sheep  you  must 
be  able  to  climb  and  shoot,  too." 

For  its  Hall  of  Asiatic  Life,  the  American  Museum 
of  Natural  History  needed  a  group  of  argalL  More- 
over, we  wanted  a  ram  which  would  fairly  represent  the 
species,  and  that  meant  a  very  big  one.  The  Reverend 
Harry  R.  Caldwell,  with  whom  I  had  hunted  tiger  in 


i 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS    187 

south  China,  volunteered  to  get  them  with  me.  The 
brigands  did  not  worry  us  unduly,  for  we  both  have  had 
considerable  experience  with  Chinese  bandits  and  we 
feel  that  they  are  like  animals — if  you  don't  tease  them, 
they  won't  bite.  In  this  case  the  "teasing"  takes  the 
form  of  carrying  anything  that  they  could  readily  dis- 
pose of — especially  money.  I  decided  that  my  wife 
must  remain  in  Peking.  She  was  in  open  rebellion 
but  there  was  just  a  possibility  that  the  brigands  might 
annoy  us,  and  we  had  determined  to  have  those  sheep 
regardless  of  consequences. 

Although  we  did  not  expect  trouble,  I  knew  that 
Harry  CaldweU  could  be  relied  upon  in  any  emergency. 
When  a  man  will  crawl  into  a  tiger's  lair,  a  tangle  of 
sword  grass  and  thorns,  just  to  find  out  what  the  brute 
has  had  for  dinner ;  when  he  will  walk  into  the  open  in 
dim  light  and  shoot,  with  a  .22  high-power  rifle,  a  tiger 
which  is  just  ready  to  charge ;  when  he  will  go  alone  and 
unarmed  into  the  mountains  to  meet  a  band  of  brigands 
who  have  been  terrorizing  the  country,  it  means  that  he 
has  more  nerve  than  any  one  man  needs  in  this  life ! 

After  leaving  the  train  at  Feng-chen,  the  journey 
was  like  all  others  in  north  China ;  slow  progress  with  a 
cart  over  atrocious  roads  which  are  either  a  mass  of 
sticky  mud  or  inches  deep  in  fine  brown  dust.  We  had 
four  days  of  it  before  we  reached  the  mountains  but  the 
trip  was  full  of  interest  to  us  both,  for  along  the  road 
there  was  an  ever-changing  picture  of  provincial  life. 
To  Harry  it  was  especially  illuminating  because  he  had 
spent  nineteen  years  in  south  China  and  had  never  be- 


188  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

fore  visited  the  north.  He  began  to  realize  what  every- 
one soon  learns  who  wanders  much  about  the  Middle 
Kingdom— that  it  is  never  safe  to  generahze  in  this 
strange  land.  Conditions  true  of  one  region  may  be 
absolutely  unknown  a  few  hundred  miles  away.  He 
was  continually  irritated  to  find  that  his  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  the  dialect  of  Fukien  Province  was  utterly  use- 
less. He  was  well-nigh  as  helpless  as  though  he  had 
never  been  in  China,  for  the  languages  of  the  north  and 
the  south  are  almost  as  unlike  as  are  French  and  Ger- 
man. Even  our  "boys'*  who  were  from  Peking  had  some 
difficulty  in  making  themselves  understood,  although 
we  were  not  more  than  two  hundred  miles  from  the 
capital. 

Instead  of  hills  thickly  clothed  with  sword  grass,  here 
the  slopes  were  bare  and  brown.  We  were  too  far  north 
for  rice;  corn,  wheat,  and  kaoliang  took  the  place  of 
paddy  fields.  Instead  of  brick-walled  houses  we  found 
dwellings  made  of  clay  like  the  "adobe"  of  Mexico  and 
Arizona.  Sometimes  whole  villages  were  dug  into  the 
hillside  and  the  natives  were  cave  dwellers,  spending 
their  lives  within  the  earth. 

All  north  China  is  spread  with  loess.  During  the 
Glacial  Period,  about  one  hundred  thousand  years  ago, 
when  in  Europe  and  America  great  rivers  of  ice  were 
descending  from  the  north,  central  and  eastern  Asia 
seems  to  have  suffered  a  progressive  dehydration.  There 
was  little  moisture  in  the  air  so  that  ice  could  not  be 
formed.  Instead,  the  climate  was  cold  and  dry,  while 
violent  winds  carried  the  dust  in  whirling  clouds  for 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS  189 

hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  miles,  spreading  it  in  ever 
thickening  layers  over  the  hills  and  plains.  Therefore, 
the  "Ice  Age"  for  Europe  and  America  was  a  "Dust 
Age"  for  northeastern  Asia. 

The  inns  were  a  constant  source  of  interest  to  us  both. 
Their  spacious  courtyards  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
filthy  "hotels"  of  southern  China.  In  the  north  all  the 
traffic  is  by  cart,  and  there  must  be  accommodation  for 
hundreds  of  vehicles ;  in  the  south  where  goods  are  car- 
ried by  boats,  coolies,  or  on  donkey  back,  extensive  com- 
pounds are  unnecessary.  Each  night,  wherever  we  ar- 
rived, we  found  the  courtyard  teeming  with  life  and 
motion.  Line  after  line  of  laden  carts  wound  in  through 
the  wide  swinging  gates  and  lined  up  in  orderly  array; 
there  was  the  steady  "crunch,  crunch,  crunch"  of  feeding 
animals,  shouts  for  the  jortggmeda  (landlord),  and 
good-natured  chaffing  among  the  carters.  In  the  great 
kitchen,  which  is  also  the  sleeping  room,  over  blazing 
fires  fanned  by  bellows,  pots  of  soup  and  macaroni  were 
steaming.  On  the  two  great  hangs  (bed  platforms), 
heated  from  below  by  long  flues  radiating  outward  from 
the  cooking  fires,  dozens  of  maftis  were  noisily  sucking 
in  their  food  or  already  snoring  contentedly,  rolled  in 
their  dusty  coats. 

Many  kinds  of  folk  were  there;  rich  merchants  en- 
veloped in  splendid  sable  coats  and  traveling  in  padded 
carts;  peddlers  with  packs  of  trinkets  for  the  women; 
wandering  doctors  selling  remedies  of  herbs,  tonics  made 
from  deerhoms  or  tigers'  teeth,  and  wonderful  potions 
of  "dragons'  bones."    Perhaps  there  was  a  Buddhist 


190  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

priest  or  two,  a  barber,  or  a  tailor.  Often  a  professional 
entertainer  sat  cross-legged  on  the  kang  telling  endless 
stories  or  singing  for  hours  at  a  time  in  a  high-pitched, 
nasal  voice,  accompanying  himself  upon  a  tiny  snake- 
skin  violin.  It  was  like  a  stage  drama  of  concentrated 
Chinese  country  life. 

Among  this  polyglot  assembly  perhaps  there  may  be 
a  single  man  who  has  arrived  with  a  pack  upon  his  back. 
He  is  indistinguishable  from  the  other  travelers  and 
mingles  among  the  mafuSj  helping  now  and  then  to  feed 
a  horse  or  adjust  a  load.  But  his  ears  and  eyes  are  open. 
He  is  a  brigand  scout  who  is  there  to  learn  what  is  pass- 
ing on  the  road.  He  hears  all  the  gossip  from  neigh- 
boring towns  as  well  as  of  those  many  miles  away,  f9r 
the  inns  are  the  newspapers  of  rural  China,  and  it  is 
every  one's  business  to  tell  all  he  knows.  The  scout 
marks  a  caravan,  then  slips  away  into  the  mountains  to 
report  to  the  leader  of  his  band.  The  attack  may  not 
take  place  for  many  days.  While  the  unsuspecting 
mafus  are  plodding  on  their  way,  the  bandits  are  hover- 
ing on  the  outskirts  among  the  hills  until  the  time  is  ripe 
to  strike. 

I  have  learned  that  these  brigand  scouts  are  my  best 
protection,  for  when  a  foreigner  arrives  at  a  country  inn 
all  other  subjects  of  conversation  lose  their  interest. 
Everything  about  him  is  discussed  and  rediscussed,  and 
the  scouts  discover  all  there  is  to  know.  Probably  the 
only  things  I  ever  carry  which  a  bandit  could  use  or 
dispose  of  readily,  are  arms  and  ammunition.  But  two 
or  three  guns  are  hardly  worth  the  trouble  which  would 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS  191 

follow  the  death  of  a  foreigner.  The  brigands  know  that 
there  would  be  no  sham  battle  with  Chinese  soldiers  in 
that  event,  for  the  Legations  at  Peking  have  a  habit  of 
demanding  reparation  from  the  Government  and  insist- 
ing that  they  get  it. 

As  a  raison  d^Stre  for  our  trip  Caldwell  and  I  had 
been  hunting  ducks,  geese,  and  pheasants  industriously 
along  the  way,  and  not  even  the  "boys"  knew  our  real 
destination. 

We  had  looked  forward  with  great  eagerness  to  the 
Tai  Hai,  a  large  lake,  where  it  was  said  that  water  fowl 
congregated  in  thousands  during  the  spring  and  fall. 
We  reached  the  lake  the  second  night  after  leaving 
Feng-cheng.  Darkness  had  just  closed  about  us  when 
we  crossed  the  summit  of  a  high  mountain  range  and 
descended  into  a  narrow,  winding  cut  which  eventually 
led  us  out  upon  the  flat  plains  of  the  Tai  Hai  basin. 
While  we  were  in  the  pass  a  dozen  flocks  of  geese  slipped 
by  above  our  heads,  flying  very  low,  the  "wedges"  show- 
ing black  against  the  starlit  sky. 

With  much  difficulty  we  found  an  inn  close  beside  the 
lake  and,  after  a  late  supper,  snuggled  into  our  fur  bags 
to  be  lulled  to  sleep  by  that  music  most  dear  to  a  sports- 
man's heart,  the  subdued  clamor  of  thousands  of  water- 
fowl settling  themselves  for  the  night. 

At  daylight  we  dressed  hurriedly  and  ran  to  the  lake 
shore.  Harry  took  a  station  away  from  the  water  at 
the  base  of  the  hills,  while  I  dropped  behind  three  coni- 
cal mounds  which  the  natives  had  constructed  to  obtain 
salt  by  evaporation. 


192  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

I  was  hardly  in  position  before  two  geese  came 
straight  for  me.  Waiting  until  they  were  almost  above 
my  head,  I  knocked  down  both  with  a  right  and  left. 
The  shots  put  thousands  of  birds  in  motion.  Flock  after 
flock  of  geese  rose  into  the  air,  and  long  lines  of  ducks 
skimmed  close  to  the  surface,  settling  away  from  shore 
or  on  the  mud  flats  near  the  water's  edge. 

No  more  birds  came  near  me,  and  in  fifteen  min- 
utes I  returned  to  the  inn  for  breakfast.  Harry  ap- 
peared shortly  after  with  only  a  mallard  duck,  for  he 
had  guessed  wrong  as  to  the  direction  of  the  flight,  and 
was  entirely  out  of  the  shooting. 

When  the  carts  had  started  at  eight  o'clock  Harry 
and  I  rode  down  the  shore  of  the  lake  to  the  south,  with 
Chen  to  hold  our  horses.  The  mud  flats  were  dotted 
with  hundreds  of  ruddy  sheldrakes,  their  beautiful  bod- 
ies glowing  red  and  gold  in  the  sunlight.  A  hundred 
yards  from  shore  half  a  dozen  swans  drifted  about  like 
floating  snow  banks,  and  ducks  and  geese  by  thousands 
rose  or  settled  in  the  lake.  We  saw  a  flock  of  mallards 
alight  in  the  short  marsh  grass  and  when  I  fired  at  least 
five  hundred  greenheads,  yellow-nibs,  and  pintails  rose 
in  a  brown  cloud. 

Crouched  behind  the  salt  mounds,  we  had  splendid 
shooting  and  then  rode  on  to  join  the  carts,  our  ponies 
loaded  with  ducks  and  geese.  The  road  swung  about  to 
the  north,  and  we  saw  geese  in  tens  of  thousands  coming 
into  the  lake  across  the  mountain  passes  from  their 
summer  breeding  grounds  in  Mongolia  and  far  Siberia. 
Regiment  after  regiment  swept  past,  circled  away  to  the 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS  19S 

west,  and  dropped  into  the  water  as  though  at  the  com- 
mand of  a  field  marshal. 

Although  we  were  following  the  main  road  to  Kwei- 
hua-cheng,  a  city  of  considerable  importance  not  far 
from  the  mountains  which  contained  the  sheep,  we  had 
no  intention  of  going  there.  Neither  did  we  wish  to 
pass  through  any  place  where  there  might  be  soldiers, 
so  on  the  last  day's  march  we  left  the  highway  and  fol-» 
lowed  an  unimportant  trail  to  the  tiny  village  of  Wu- 
shi-tu,  which  nestles  against  the  mountain's  base.  Here 
we  made  our  camp  in  a  Chinese  house  and  obtained  two 
Mongol  hunters.  We  had  hoped  to  live  in  tents,  but 
there  was  not  a  stick  of  wood  for  fuel.  The  natives 
burn  either  coal  or  grass  and  twigs,  but  these  would  not 
keep  us  warm  in  an  open  camp. 

About  the  village  rose  a  chaotic  mass  of  saw-toothed 
mountains  cut,  to  the  east,  by  a  stupendous  gorge.  We 
stood  silent  with  awe,  when  we  first  climbed  a  winding, 
white  trail  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain  and  gazed 
into  the  abysmal  depths.  My  eye  followed  an  eagle 
which  floated  across  the  chasm  to  its  perch  on  a  project- 
ing crag;  thence  down  the  sheer  face  of  the  cliff  a  thou- 
sand feet  to  the  stream  which  has  carved  this  colossal 
canon  from  the  living  rock.  Like  a  shining  silver  trac- 
ing it  twisted  and  turned,  foaming  over  rocks  and  run- 
ning in  smooth,  green  sheets  between  vertical  walls  of 
granite.  To  the  north  we  looked  across  at  a  splendid 
panorama  of  saw-toothed  peaks  and  ragged  pinnacles 
tinted  with  delicate  shades  of  pink  and  lavender.  Be- 
neath our  feet  were  slabs  of  pure  white  marble  and  great 


194  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

blocks  of  greenish  feldspar.  Among  the  peaks  were 
deep  ravines  and,  farther  to  the  east,  rolling  uplands 
carpeted  with  grass.    There  the  sheep  are  found. 

We  killed  only  one  goral  and  a  roebuck  during  the 
first  two  days,  for  a  violent  gale  made  hunting  well-nigh 
impossible.  On  the  third  morning  the  sun  rose  in  a 
sky  as  blue  as  the  waters  of  a  tropic  sea,  and  not  a  breath 
of  air  stirred  the  silver  poplar  leaves  as  we  crossed  the 
rocky  stream  bed  to  the  base  of  the  mountains  north  of 
camp.  Fifteen  hundred  feet  above  us  towered  a  ragged 
granite  ridge  which  must  be  crossed  ere  we  could  gain 
entrance  to  the  grassy  valleys  beyond  the  barrier. 

We  had  toiled  halfway  up  the  slope,  when  my  hunter 
sank  into  the  grass,  pointed  upward,  and  whispered, 
^'pan-ymig"  (wild  sheep).  There,  on  the  very  summit 
of  the  highest  pinnacle,  stood  a  magnificent  ram  sil- 
houetted against  the  sky.  It  was  a  stage  introduction 
to  the  greatest  game  animal  in  all  the  world. 

Motionless,  as  though  sculptured  from  the  living 
granite,  it  gazed  across  the  valley  toward  the  village 
whence  we  had  come.  Through  my  glasses  I  could  see 
every  detail  of  its  splendid  body — ^the  wash  of  gray  with 
which  many  winters  had  tinged  its  neck  and  flanks,  the 
finely  drawn  legs,  and  the  massive  horns  curling  about 
a  head  as  proudly  held  as  that  of  a  Roman  warrior.  He 
stood  like  a  statue  for  half  an  hour,  while  we  crouched 
motionless  in  the  trail  below;  then  he  turned  dehberately 
and  disappeared. 

When  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge  the  ram  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen,  but  we  found  his  tracks  on  a  path 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS  196 

leading  down  a  knifelike  outcrop  to  the  bottom  of  an- 
other valley.  I  felt  sure  that  he  would  turn  eastward 
toward  the  grassy  uplands,  but  Na-mon-gin,  my  Mon- 
gol hunter,  pointed  north  to  a  sea  of  ragged  mountains. 
We  groaned  as  we  looked  at  those  towering  peaks; 
moreover,  it  seemed  hopeless  to  hunt  for  a  single  animal 
in  "that  chaos  of  ravines  and  canons. 

We  had  already  learned,  however,  that  the  Mongol 
knew  almost  as  much  about  what  a  sheep  would  do  as 
did  the  animal  itself.  It  was  positively  uncanny.  Per- 
haps we  would  see  a  herd  of  sheep  half  a  mile  away. 
The  old  fellow  would  seat  himself,  nonchalantly  fill  his 
pipe  and  puff  contentedly,  now  and  then  glancing  at  the 
animals.  In  a  few  moments  he  would  announce  what 
was  about  to  happen,  and  he  was  seldom  wrong. 

Therefore,  when  he  descended  to  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  we  accepted  his  dictum  without  a  protest.  At 
the  creek  bed  Harry  and  his  young  hunter  left  us  to 
follow  a  deep  ravine  which  led  upward  a  little  to  the 
left,  while  Na-mon-gin  and  I  climbed  to  the  crest  by 
way  of  a  precipitous  ridge. 

Not  fifteen  minutes  after  we  parted,  Harry's  rifle 
banged  three  times  in  quick  succession,  the  reports  roll- 
ing out  from  the  gorge  in  majestic  waves  of  sound.  A 
moment  later  the  old  Mongol  saw  three  sheep  silhouetted 
for  an  instant  against  the  sky  as  they  scrambled  across 
the  ridge.  Then  a  voice  floated  faintly  up  to  me  from 
out  the  canon. 

"I'  V  e  g  o  t  a  f-i-n-e  r-a-m,"  it  said,  "a  b-e-a-u-t-y," 
and  even  at  that  distance  I  could  hear  its  happy  ring. 


196  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

"Good  for  Harry,"  I  thought.  "He  certainly  de- 
served it  after  his  work  of  last  night;"  for  on  the  way 
home  his  hunter  had  seen  an  enormous  ram  climbing  a 
mountain  side  and  they  had  followed  it  to  the  summit 
only  to  lose  its  trail  in  the  gathering  darkness.  Harry 
had  stumbled  into  camp,  half  dead  with  fatigue,  but 
with  his  enthusiasm  undiminished. 

When  Na-mon-gin  and  I  had  readied  the  highest 
peak  and  found  a  trail  which  led  along  the  mountain 
side  just  below  the  crest,  we  kept  steadily  on,  now  and 
then  stopping  to  scan  the  grassy  ravines  and  valleys 
which  radiated  from  the  ridge  like  the  ribs  of  a  giant 
fan.  At  half  past  eleven,  as  we  rounded  a  rocky  shoul- 
der, I  saw  four  sheep  feeding  in  the  bottom  of  a  gorge 
far  below  us. 

Quite  unconscious  of  our  presence,  they  worked  out 
of  the  ravine  across  a  low  spur  and  into  a  deep  gorge 
where  the  grass  still  showed  a  tinge  of  green.  As  the 
last  one  disappeared,  we  dashed  down  the  slope  and 
came  up  just  above  the  sheep.  With  my  glasses  I  could 
see  that  the  leader  carried  a  fair  pair  of  horns,  but  that 
the  other  three  rams  were  small,  as  argali  go. 

Lying  flat,  I  pushed  my  rifle  over  the  crest  and  aimed 
at  the  biggest  ram.  Three  or  four  tiny  grass  stems  were 
directly  in  my  line  of  sight,  and  fearing  that  they  might 
deflect  my  bullet,  I  drew  back  and  shifted  my  position 
a  few  feet  to  the  right. 

One  of  the  sheep  must  have  seen  the  movement,  al- 
though we  were  directly  above  them,  and  instantly  all 
were  oflf.    In  four  jumps  they  had  disappeared  around 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS   197 

a  bowlder,  giving  me  time  for  only  a  hurried  shot  at  the 
last  one's  white  rump-patch.  The  bullet  struck  a  few 
inches  behind  the  ram,  and  the  valley  was  empty. 

Looking  down  where  they  had  been  so  quietly  feed- 
ing only  a  few  moments  before,  I  called  myself  all 
known  varieties  of  a  fool.  I  felt  very  bad  indeed  that  I 
had  bungled  hopelessly  my  first  chance  at  an  argalL 
But  the  sympathetic  old  hunter  patted  me  on  the  shoul- 
der and  said  in  Chinese,  "Never  mind.  They  were  small 
ones  anyway — not  worth  having."  They  were  very 
much  worth  having  to  me,  however,  and  all  the  light 
seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  the  world.  We  smoked  a 
cigarette,  but  there  was  no  consolation  in  that,  and  I 
followed  the  hunter  around  the  peak  with  a  heart  as 
heavy  as  lead. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  sat  down  for  a  look  around. 
I  studied  every  ridge  and  gully  with  my  glasses  with- 
out seeing  a  sign  of  life.  The  four  sheep  had  disap- 
peared as  completely  as  though  one  of  the  yawning  ra- 
vines had  swallowed  them  up;  the  great  valley  bathed 
in  golden  sunlight  was  deserted  and  as  silent  as  the 
tomb. 

I  was  just  tearing  the  wrapper  from  a  piece  of  choco- 
late when  the  hunter  touched  me  on  the  arm  and  said 
quietly,  ''Pan-yang  li  la"  (A  sheep  has  come).  He 
pointed  far  down  a  ridge  running  out  at  a  right  angle 
to  the  one  on  which  we  were  sitting,  but  I  could  see 
nothing.  Then  I  scanned  every  square  inch  of  rock, 
but  still  saw  no  sign  of  life. 

The  hunter  laughingly  whispered,  "I  can  see  better 


198  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

than  you  can  even  with  your  foreign  eyes.  He  is  stand- 
ing in  that  trail — he  may  come  right  up  to  us." 

I  tried  again,  following  the  thin,  white  line  as  it 
wound  from  us  along  the  side  of  the  knifelike  ridge. 
Just  where  it  vanished  into  space  I  saw  the  sheep,  a 
splendid  ram,  standing  like  a  statue  of  gray-brown 
granite  and  gazing  squarely  at  us.  He  was  fully  half 
a  mile  away,  but  the  hunter  had  seen  him  the  instant  he 
appeared.  Without  my  glasses  the  animal  was  merely 
a  blur  to  me,  but  the  marvelous  eyes  of  the  Mongol 
could  detect  its  every  movement. 

"It  is  the  same  one  we  saw  this  morning,"  he  said. 
"I  was  sure  we  would  find  him  over  here.  He  has  very 
big  horns — ^much  better  than  those  others." 

That  was  quite  true ;  but  the  others  had  given  me  a 
shot  and  this  ram,  splendid  as  he  was,  seemed  as  un- 
obtainable as  the  stars.  For  an  hour  we  watched  him. 
Sometimes  he  would  turn  about  to  look  across  the  ra- 
vines on  either  side  and  once  he  came  a  dozen  feet  to- 
ward us  along  the  path.  The  hunter  smoked  quietly, 
now  and  then  looking  through  my  glasses.  "After  a 
while  he  will  go  to  sleep,"  he  said,  "then  we  can  shoot 
him." 

I  must  confess  that  I  had  but  little  hope.  The  ram 
seemed  too  splendid  and  much,  much  too  far  away.  But 
I  could  feast  my  eyes  on  his  magnificent  head  and  al- 
most count  the  rings  on  his  curling  horns. 

A  flock  of  red-legged  partridges  sailed  across  from 
the  opposite  ridge,  uttering  their  rapid-fire  call  and 
alighted  almost  at  our  feet.    Then  each  one  seemed  to 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS  199 

melt  into  the  mountain  side,  vanishing  like  magic  among 
the  grass  and  stones.  I  wondered  mildly  why  they  had 
concealed  themselves  so  suddenly,  but  a  moment  later 
there  sounded  a  subdued  whir,  like  the  motor  of  an  aero- 
plane far  up  in  the  sky.  Three  shadows  drifted  over, 
and  I  saw  three  huge  black  eagles  swinging  in  ever 
lowering  circles  about  our  heads.  I  knew  then  that  the 
partridges  had  sought  the  protection  of  our  presence 
from  their  mortal  enemies,  the  eagles. 

When  I  looked  at  the  sheep  again  he  was  lying  down 
squarely  in  the  trail,  lazily  raising  his  head  now  and  then 
to  gaze  about.  The  hunter  inspected  the  ram  through 
my  glasses  and  prepared  to  go.  We  rolled  slowly  over 
the  ridge  and  then  hurried  around  to  the  projecting 
spur  at  the  end  of  which  the  ram  was  lying. 

The  going  was  very  bad  indeed.  Pieces  of  crumbled 
granite  were  continually  slipping  under  foot,  and  at 
times  we  had  to  cling  like  flies  to  a  wall  of  rock  with  a 
sheer  drop  of  hundreds  of  feet  below  us.  Twice  the 
Mongol  cautiously  looked  over  the  ridge,  but  each  time 
shook  his  head  and  worked  his  way  a  little  farther.  At 
last  he  motioned  me  to  slide  up  beside  him.  Pushing 
my  rifle  over  the  rock  before  me,  I  raised  myself  a  few 
inches  and  saw  the  massive  head  and  neck  of  the  ram 
two  hundred  yards  away.  His  body  was  behind  a  rocky 
shoulder,  but  he  was  looking  squarely  at  us  and  in  a 
second  would  be  off. 

I  aimed  carefully  just  under  his  chin,  and  at  the  roar 
of  the  high-power  shell,  the  ram  leaped  backward. 
"You  hit  him,"  said  the  Mongol,  but  I  felt  he  must  be 


200  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

wrong;  if  the  bullet  had  found  the  neck  he  would  have 
dropped  like  lead. 

Never  in  all  my  years  of  hunting  have  I  had  a  feeling 
of  such  intense  surprise  and  self-disgust.  I  had  been 
certain  of  the  shot  and  it  was  impossible  to  believe  that 
I  had  missed.  A  lump  rose  in  my  throat  and  I  sat  with 
my  head  resting  on  my  hands  in  the  uttermost  depths  of 
dejection. 

And  then  the  impossible  happened!  Why  it  hap- 
pened, I  shall  never  know.  A  kind  Providence  must 
have  directed  the  actions  of  the  sheep,  for,  as  I  raised  my 
eyes,  I  saw  again  that  enormous  head  and  neck  appear 
from  behind  a  rock  a  hundred  yards  away;  just  that 
head  with  its  circlet  of  massive  horns  and  the  neck — 
nothing  more.  Almost  in  a  daze  I  lifted  my  rifle,  saw 
the  little  ivory  bead  of  the  front  sight  center  on  that 
gray  neck,  and  touched  the  trigger.  A  thousand  echoes 
crashed  back  upon  us.  There  was  a  clatter  of  stones,  a 
confused  vision  of  a  ponderous  bulk  heaving  up  and 
back — and  all  was  still.  But  it  was  enough  for  me; 
there  could  be  no  mistake  this  time.  The  ram  was 
mine. 

The  sudden  transition  from  utter  dejection  to  the 
greatest  triumph  of  a  sportsman's  life  set  me  wild  with 
joy.  I  yelled  and  pounded  the  old  Mongol  on  the  back 
until  he  begged  for  mercy;  then  I  whirled  him  about  in 
a  war  dance  on  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  I  wanted  to 
leap  down  the  rocks  where  the  sheep  had  disappeared 
but  the  hunter  held  my  arm.  For  ten  minutes  we  sat 
there  waiting  to  make  sure  that  the  ram  would  not  dash 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS  Wl 

away  while  we  were  out  of  sight  in  the  ravine  below. 
But  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  it  was  all  unnecessary.  My 
bullet  had  gone  where  I  wanted  it  to  go  and  that  was 
quite  enough.  No  sheep  that  ever  walked  could  live 
with  a  Mannlicher  ball  squarely  in  its  neck. 

When  we  finally  descended,  the  animal  lay  halfway 
down  the  slope,  feebly  kicking.  What  a  huge  brute  he 
was,  and  what  a  glorious  head!  I  had  never  dreamed 
that  an  argali  could  be  so  splendid.  His  horns  were 
perfect,  and  my  hands  could  not  meet  around  them  at 
the  base. 

Then,  of  course,  I  wanted  to  know  what  had  hap- 
pened at  my  first  shot.  The  evidence  was  there  upon 
his  face.  My  bullet  had  gone  an  inch  high,  struck  him 
in  the  corner  of  the  mouth,  and  emerged  from  his  right 
cheek.  It  must  have  been  a  painful  wound,  and  I  shall 
never  cease  to  wonder  what  strange  impulse  brought 
him  back  after  he  had  been  so  badly  stung.  The  second 
ball  had  been  centered  in  the  neck  as  though  in  the 
bulFs-eye  of  a  target. 

The  skin  and  head  of  the  sheep  made  a  pack  weigh- 
ing nearly  one  hundred  pounds,  and  the  old  Mongol 
groaned  as  he  looked  up  at  the  mountain  barriers  which 
separated  us  from  camp.  On  the  summit  of  the  first 
ridge  we  found  the  trail  over  which  we  had  passed  in 
the  morning.  Half  an  hour  later  the  hunter  jerked 
me  violently  behind  a  ledge  of  rock.  "Pan-yang/'  he 
whispered,  "there,  on  the  mountain  side.  Can't  you  see 
him?"  I  could  not,  and  he  tried  to  point  to  it  with  my 
rifle.    Just  at  that  instant  what  I  had  supposed  to  be  a 


20a  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

brown  rock  came  to  life  in  a  whirl  of  dust  and  vanished 
into  the  ravine  below. 

We  waited  breathlessly  for  perhaps  a  minute — it 
seemed  hours — then  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  sheep 
appeared  from  behind  a  bowlder.  I  aimed  low  and  fired, 
and  the  animal  crumpled  in  its  tracks.  A  second  later 
two  rams  and  a  ewe  dashed  from  the  same  spot  and 
stopped  upon  the  hillside  less  than  a  hundred  yards 
away.  Instinctively  I  sighted  on  the  largest  but 
dropped  my  rifle  without  touching  the  trigger.  The 
sheep  was  small,  and  even  if  we  did  need  him  for  the 
group  we  could  not  carry  his  head  and  skin  to  camp  that 
night.  The  wolves  would  surely  have  found  his  carcass 
before  dawn,  and  it  would  have  been  a  useless  waste  of 
life. 

The  one  I  had  killed  was  a  fine  young  ram.  With 
the  skin,  head,  and  parts  of  the  meat  packed  upon  my 
shoulders  we  started  homeward  at  six  o'clock.  Our 
only  exit  lay  down  the  river  bed  in  the  bottom  of  a 
great  canon,  for  in  the  darkness  it  would  have  been  dan- 
gerous to  follow  the  trail  along  the  cliffs.  In  half  an 
hour  it  was  black  night  in  the  gorge.  The  vertical  walls 
of  rock  shut  out  even  the  starlight,  and  we  could  not  see 
more  than  a  dozen  feet  ahead. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  walk.  After  wading  the 
stream  twenty-eight  times  I  lost  count,  I  was  too  cold 
and  tired  and  had  fallen  over  too  many  rocks  to  have  it 
make  the  slightest  difference  how  many  more  than 
twenty-eight  times  we  went  into  the  icy  water.  The 
hundred-pound  pack  upon  my  back  weighed  more  every 


GREAT  RAM  OF  THE  SHANSI  MOUNTAINS   203 

hour,  but  the  thought  of  those  two  splendid  rams  was  as 
good  as  bread  and  wine. 

Harry  was  considerably  worried  when  we  reached 
camp  at  eleven  o'clock,  for  in  the  village  there  had  been 
much  talk  of  bandits.  Even  before  dinner  we  meas- 
ured the  rams  and  found  that  the  horns  of  the  one  he  had 
killed  exceeded  the  published  records  for  the  species  by 
half  an  inch  in  circumference.  The  horns  were  forty- 
seven  inches  in  length,  but  were  broken  at  the  tips ;  the 
original  length  was  fifty-one  inches;  the  circumference 
at  the  base  was  twenty  inches.  Moreover,  mine  was  not 
far  behind  in  size. 

As  I  snuggled  into  my  fur  sleeping  bag  that  night,  I 
realized  that  it  had  been  the  most  satisfactory  hunting 
day  of  my  life.  The  success  of  the  group  was  assured, 
with  a  record  ram  for  the  central  figure.  We  had  three 
specimens  already,  and  the  others  would  not  be  hard  to 
get. 

The  next  morning  four  soldiers  were  waiting  in  the 
courtyard  when  we  awoke.  With  many  apologies  they 
informed  us  that  they  had  been  sent  by  the  commander 
of  the  garrison  at  Kwei-hua-cheng  to  ask  us  to  go  back 
with  them.  The  mountains  were  very  dangerous ;  brig- 
ands were  swarming  in  the  surrounding  country;  the 
commandant  was  greatly  worried  for  our  safety. 
Therefore,  would  we  be  so  kind  as  to  break  camp  at 
once. 

We  told  them  politely,  but  firmly,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible for  us  to  comply  with  their  request.  We  needed 
the  sheep  for  a  great  museum  in  New  York,  and  we 


204t  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

could  not  return  without  them.  As  they  could  see  for 
themselves  our  passports  had  been  properly  viseed  by 
the  Foreign  Office  in  Peking,  and  we  were  prepared  to 
stay. 

The  soldiers  returned  to  Kwei-hua-cheng,  and  the 
following  day  we  were  honored  by  a  visit  from  the  com- 
mandant himself.  To  him  we  repeated  our  determina- 
tion to  remain.  He  evidently  realized  that  we  could  not 
be  dislodged  and  suggested  a  compromise  arrangement. 
He  would  send  soldiers  to  guard  our  house  and  to  ac- 
company us  while  we  were  hunting.  We  assented  read- 
ily, because  we  knew  Chinese  soldiers.  Of  course,  the 
sentinel  at  the  door  troubled  us  not  at  all,  and  the  ones 
who  were  to  accompany  us  were  easily  disposed  of.  For 
the  first  day's  hunt  with  our  guard  we  selected  the 
roughest  part  of  the  mountain,  and  set  such  a  terrific 
pace  up  the  almost  perpendicular  slope  that  before  long 
they  were  left  far  behind.  They  never  bothered  us 
again. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MONGOLIAN  AROALI 

Although  we  had  seen  nearly  a  dozen  sheep  where  we 
killed  our  first  three  rams,  the  mountains  were  deserted 
when  Harry  returned  the  following  morning.  He 
hunted  faithfully,  but  did  not  see  even  a  roebuck;  the 
sheep  all  had  left  for  other  feeding  grounds.  I  re- 
mained in  camp  to  superintend  the  preparation  of  our 
specimens. 

The  next  day  we  had  a  glorious  hunt.  By  six  o'clock 
we  were  climbing  the  winding,  white  trail  west  of  camp, 
and  for  half  an  hour  we  stood  gazing  into  the  gloomy 
depths  of  the  stupendous  gorge,  as  yet  unlighted  by  the 
morning  sun.  Then  we  separated,  each  making  toward 
the  grassy  uplands  by  different  routes. 

Na-mon-gin  led  me  along  the  summit  of  a  broken 
ridge,  but,  evidently,  he  did  not  expect  to  find  sheep  in 
the  ravines,  for  he  kept  straight  on,  mile  after  mile,  with 
never  a  halt  for  rest.  At  last  we  reached  a  point  where 
the  plateau  rolled  away  in  grassy  waves  of  brown.  We 
were  circling  a  rounded  hill,  just  below  the  crest,  when, 
not  thirty  yards  away,  three  splendid  roe  deer  jumped 
to  their  feet  and  stood  as  though  frozen,  gazing  at  us ; 
then,  with  a  snort,  they  dashed  down  the  slope  and  up 
the  other  side.    They  had  not  yet  disappeared,  when  two 

205 


S06  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

other  bucks  crossed  a  ridge  into  the  bottom  of  the  draw. 
It  was  a  sore  trial  to  let  them  go,  but  the  old  hunter  had 
his  hand  upon  my  arm  and  shook  his  head. 

Passing  the  summit  of  the  hill,  we  sat  down  for  a 
look  around.  Before  us,  nearly  a  mile  away,  three  shal- 
low, grass-filled  valleys  dropped  steeply  from  the  roll- 
ing meadowland.  Almost  instantly  through  my  binoc- 
ulars I  caught  the  moving  forms  of  three  sheep  in  the 
bottom  of  the  central  draw.  ''Pariryang''  I  said  to  the 
Mongol.  "Yes,  yes,  I  see  them,"  he  answered.  "One 
has  very  big  horns."  He  was  quite  right ;  for  the  largest 
ram  carried  a  splendid  head,  and  the  other  was  by  no 
means  small.  The  third  was  a  tiny  ewe.  The  animals 
wandered  about  nibbling  at  the  grass,  but  did  not  move 
out  of  the  valley  bottom.  After  studying  them  awhile 
the  hunter  remarked,  "Soon  they  will  go  to  sleep.  We'll 
wait  till  then.  They  would  hear  or  smell  us  if  we  went 
over  now." 

I  ate  one  of  the  three  pears  I  had  brought  for  tiiSn 
and  smoked  a  cigarette.  The  hunter  stretched  himself 
out  comfortably  upon  the  grass  and  pulled  away  at  his 
pipe.  It  was  very  pleasant  there,  for  we  were  protected 
from  the  wind,  and  the  sun  was  delightfully  warm.  I 
watched  the  sheep  through  the  glasses  and  wondered  if 
I  should  carry  home  the  splendid  ram  that  night.  Fi- 
nally the  little  ewe  lay  down  and  the  others  followed  her 
example. 

We  were  just  preparing  to  go  when  the  hunter 
touched  my  arm.  "Pan-yang"  he  whispered.  "There, 
coming  over  the  hill.     Don't  move."     Sure  enough,  a 


MONGOLIAN  ARGALI  207 

sheep  was  trotting  slowly  down  the  hillside  in  our  di- 
rection. Why  he  did  not  see  or  smell  us,  I  cannot 
imagine,  for  the. wind  was  in  his  direction.  But  he 
came  on,  passed  within  one  hundred  feet,  and  stopped 
on  the  summit  of  the  opposite  swell.  What  a  shot! 
He  was  so  close  that  I  could  have  counted  the  rings  on 
his  horns — and  they  were  good  horns,  too,  just  the  size 
we  wanted  for  the  group.  But  the  hunter  would  not 
let  me  shoot.  His  heart  was  set  upon  the  big  ram 
peacefully  sleeping  a  mile  away. 

"A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush"  is  a 
motto  which  I  have  followed  with  good  success  in  hunt- 
ing, and  I  was  loath  to  let  that  argali  go  even  for  the 
prospect  of  the  big  one  across  the  valley.  But  I  had 
a  profound  respect  for  the  opinion  of  my  hunter.  He 
usually  guessed  right,  and  I  had  found  it  safe  to  fol- 
low his  advice. 

So  we  watched  the  sheep  walk  slowly  over  the  crest 
of  the  hill.  The  Mongol  did  not  tell  me  then,  but  he 
knew  that  the  animal  was  on  his  way  to  join  the  others, 
and  his  silence  cost  us  the  big  ram.  You  may  wonder 
how  he  knew  it.  I  can  only  answer  that  what  that* 
Mongol  did  not  know  about  the  ways  of  sheep  was  not 
worth  learning.  He  seemed  to  think  as  the  sheep 
thought,  but,  withal,  was  a  most  intelligent  and  delight- 
ful companion.  His  ready  sympathy,  his  keen  humor, 
and  his  interest  in  helping  me  get  the  finest  specimens 
of  the  animals  I  wanted,  endeared  him  to  me  in  a  way 
which  only  a  sportsman  can  understand.  His  Shansi 
dialect  and  my  limited  Mandarin  made  a  curious  com- 


208  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

bination  of  the  Chinese  language,  but  we  could  al- 
ways piece  it  out  with  signs,  and  we  never  misunder- 
stood each  other  on  any  important  matter. 

We  had  many  friendly  differences  of  opinion  about 
the  way  in  which  to  conduct  a  stalk,  and  his  childlike 
glee  when  he  was  proved  correct  was  most  refreshing. 
One  morning  I  got  the  better  of  him,  and  for  days  he 
could  not  forget  it.  We  were  sitting  on  a  hillside,  and 
with  my  glasses  I  picked  up  a  herd  of  sheep  far  away 
on  the  uplands.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "one  is  a  very  big 
ram."  How  he  could  tell  at  that  distance  was  a  mys- 
tery to  me,  but  I  did  not  question  his  statement  for  he 
had  proved  too  often  that  his  range  of  sight  was  al- 
most beyond  belief. 

We  started  toward  the  sheep,  and  after  half  a  mile 
I  looked  again.  Then  I  thought  I  saw  a  grasscutter, 
and  the  animals  seemed  like  donkeys.  I  said  as  much 
but  the  hunter  laughed.  "Why,  I  saw  the  horns,"  he 
said.  "One  is  a  big  one,  a  very  big  one."  I  stopped 
a  second  time  and  made  out  a  native  bending  over,  cut- 
ting grass.  But  I  could  not  convince  the  Mongol.  He 
disdained  my  glasses  and  would  not  even  put  them  to 
his  eyes.  "I  don't  have  to — I  krum)  they  are  sheep," 
he  laughed.  But  I,  too,  was  sure.  "Well,  we'll  see," 
he  said.  When  we  looked  again,  there  could  be  no  mis- 
take ;  the  sheep  were  donkeys.  It  was  a  treat  to  watch 
the  Mongol's  face,  and  I  made  much  capital  of  his  mis- 
take, for  he  had  so  often  teased  me  when  I  was  wrong. 

But  to  return  to  the  sheep  across  the  valley  which 
we  were  stalking  on  that  sunlit  Thursday  noon.    After 


MONGOLIAN  ARGALI  209 

the  ram  had  disappeared  we  made  our  way  slowly 
around  the  hilltop,  whence  he  had  come,  to  gain  a  con- 
necting meadow  which  would  bring  us  to  the  ravine 
where  the  argali  were  sleeping.  On  the  way  I  was  in 
a  fever  of  indecision.  Ought  I  to  have  let  that  ram 
go?  He  was  just  what  we  wanted  for  the  group,  and 
something  might  happen  to  prevent  a  shot  at  the  oth- 
ers. It  was  "a  bird  in  the  hand"  again,  and  I  had  been 
false  to  the  motto  which  had  so  often  proved  true. 

Then  the  "something"  I  had  feared  did  happen.  We 
saw  a  grasscutter  with  two  donkeys  emerge  from  a 
ravine  on  the  left  and  strike  along  the  grassy  bridge 
five  hundred  yards  beyond  us.  If  he  turned  to  the 
right  across  the  upper  edge  of  the  meadows,  we  could 
whistle  for  our  sheep.  Even  if  he  kept  straight  ahead, 
possibly  they  might  scent  him.  The  Mongol's  face  was 
like  a  thundercloud.  I  believe  he  would  have  strangled 
that  grasscutter  could  he  have  had  him  in  his  hands. 
But  the  Fates  were  kind,  and  the  man  with  his  donkeys 
kept  to  the  left  across  the  uplands.  Even  then  my 
Mongol  would  not  hurry.  His  motto  was  "Slowly, 
slowly,"  and  we  seemed  barely  to  crawl  up  the  slope  of 
the  shallow  valley  which  I  hoped  still  held  the  sheep. 

On  the  summit  of  the  draw  the  old  hunter  motioned 
me  behind  him  and  cautiously  raised  his  head.  Then  a 
little  farther.  Another  step  and  a  long  look.  He 
stood  on  tiptoe,  and,  settling  back,  quietly  motioned 
me^to  move  up  beside  him. 

Just  then  a  gust  of  wind  swept  across  the  hilltop 
and  into  the  ravine.    There  was  a  rush  of  feet,  a  clat- 


210  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

ter  of  sliding  rock,  and  three  argali  dashed  into  view 
on  the  opposite  slope.  They  stopped  two  hundred 
yards  away.  My  hunter  was  frantically  whispering, 
"One  more.  Don't  shoot.  Don't  shoot."  I  was  at  a 
loss  to  understand,  for  I  knew  there  were  only  three 
sheep  in  the  draw.  The  two  rams  both  seemed  enor- 
mous, and  I  let  drive  at  the  leader.  He  went  down 
like  lead — shot  through  the  shoulders.  The  two  others 
ran  a  few  yards  and  stopped  again.  When  I  fired,  the 
sheep  whirled  about  but  did  not  fall.  I  threw  in  an- 
other shell  and  held  the  sight  well  down.  The  "putt" 
of  a  bullet  on  flesh  came  distinctly  to  us,  but  the  ram 
stood  without  a  motion. 

The  third  shot  was  too  much,  and  he  slumped  for- 
ward, rolled  over,  and  crashed  to  the  bottom  of  the 
ravine.  All  the  time  Na-mon-gin  was  frantically  whis- 
pering, "Not  right.  Not  right.  The  big  one.  The  big 
one."  As  the  second  sheep  went  down  I  learned  the  rea- 
son. Out  from  the  valley  directly  below  us  rushed  a 
huge  ram,  washed  with  white  on  the  neck  and  shoulders 
and  carrying  a  pair  of  enormous,  curling  horns.  I  was 
too  surprised  to  move.  How  could  four  sheep  be  there, 
when  I  knew  there  were  only  three! 

Usually  I  am  perfectly  cool  when  shooting  and  have 
all  my  excitement  when  the  work  is  done,  but  the  un- 
expected advent  of  that  ram  turned  on  the  thrills  a 
bit  too  soon.  I  forgot  what  I  had  whispered  to  myself 
at  every  shot,  "Aim  low,  aim  low.  You  are  shooting 
down  hill,"  I  held  squarely  on  his  gray-white  shoulder 
and  pulled  the  trigger.     The  bullet  just  grazed  his 


MONGOLIAN  ARGALI  211 

back.  He  ran  a  few  steps  and  stopped.  Again  I  fired 
hurriedly,  and  the  ball  missed  him  by  the  fraction  of 
an  inch.  I  saw  it  strike  and  came  to  my  senses  with  a 
jerk;  but  it  was  too  late,  for  the  rifle  was  empty.  Be- 
fore I  could  cram  in  another  shell  the  sheep  was  gone. 

Na-mon-gin  was  absolutely  disgusted.  Even  though 
I  had  killed  two  fine  rams,  he  wanted  the  big  one. 
"But,"  I  said,  "where  did  the  fourth  sheep  come  from? 
I  saw  only  three."  He  looked  at  me  in  amazement. 
"Didn't  you  know  that  the  ram  which  walked  by  us 
went  over  to  the  others?"  he  answered.  "Any  one 
ought  to  have  known  that  much." 

Well,  I  hadn't  known.  Otherwise,  I  should  have  held 
my  fire.  Right  there  the  Mongol  read  me  a  lecture  on 
too  much  haste.  He  said  I  was  like  every  other  for- 
eigner— always  in  a  rush.  He  said  a  lot  of  other  things 
which  I  accepted  meekly,  for  I  knew  that  he  was  right. 
I  always  am  in  a  hurry.  Missing  that  ram  had  taken 
most  of  the  joy  out  of  the  others;  and  to  make  matters 
worse,  the  magnificent  animal  stationed  himself  on  the 
very  hillside  where  we  had  been  sitting  when  we  saw 
them  first  and,  with  the  little  ewe  close  beside  him, 
watched  us  for  half  an  hour. 

Na-mon-gin  glared  at  him  and  shook  his  fist.  "We'll 
get  you  to-morrow,  you  old  rabbit,"  he  said;  and  then 
to  me,  "Don't  you  care.     I  won't  eat  till  we  kill  him." 

For  the  next  ten  minutes  the  kindly  old  Mongol 
devoted  himself  to  bringing  a  smile  to  my  lips.  He 
told  me  he  knew  just  where  that  ram  would  go;  we 
couldn't  have  carried  in  his  head  anyway;  that  it  would 


212  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

be  much  better  to  save  him  for  to-morrow;  and  that  I 
had  killed  the  other  two  so  beautifully  that  he  was  proud 
of  me. 

I  continued  to  feel  better  when  I  saw  the  two  dead 
argali.  They  were  both  fine  rams,  in  perfect  condi- 
tion, with  beautiful  horns.  One  of  them  was  the  sheep 
which  had  walked  so  close  to  us ;  there  was  no  doubt  of 
that,  for  I  had  been  able  to  see  the  details  of  his  "face 
and  figure."  Every  argali  has  its  own  special  charac- 
ters which  are  unmistakable.  In  the  carriage  of  his 
head,  the  curve  of  his  horns,  and  in  coloration,  he  is  as 
individual  as  a  human  being. 

While  we  were  examining  the  sheep,  Harry  and  his 
hunter  appeared  upon  the  rim  of  the  ravine.  They 
brought  with  them,  on  a  donkey,  the  skin  and  head  of 
a  fine  two-year-old  ram  which  he  had  killed  an  hour  ear- 
lier far  beyond  us  on  the  uplands.  It  fitted  exactly 
into  our  series,  and  when  we  had  another  big  ram  and 
two  ewes,  the  group  would  be  complete. 

Poor  Harry  was  hobbling  along  just  able  to  walk. 
He  had  strained  a  tendon  in  his  right  leg  the  previ- 
ous morning,  and  had  been  enduring  the  most  excru- 
ciating pain  all  day.  He  wanted  to  stay  and  help  us 
skin  the  sheep,  but  I  would  not  let  him.  We  were  a 
long  way  from  camp,  and  it  would  require  all  his 
strength  to  get  back  at  all. 

At  half-past  four  we  finished  with  the  sheep,  and 
tied  the  skins  and  much  of  the  meat  on  the  two  don- 
keys which  Harry  had  commandeered.  Our  only  way 
home  lay  down  the  river  bed,  for  in  the  darkness  we 


MONGOLIAN  ARGALI  «13 

could  not  follow  the  trail  along  the  cliffs.  By  six 
o'clock  it  was  black  night  in  the  gorge. 

The  donkeys  were  our  only  salvation,  for  by  instinct 
— it  couldn't  have  been  sight — ^they  followed  the  trail 
along  the  base  of  the  cliffs.  By  keeping  my  hands 
upon  the  back  of  the  rearmost  animal,  and  the  two 
Mongols  close  to  me,  we  got  out  of  the  canon  and  into 
the  wider  valley.  When  we  reached  the  village  I  was 
hungry  enough  to  eat  chips,  for  I  had  had  only  three 
pears  since  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  it  was  then 
nine  at  night. 

Harry,  limping  into  camp  just  after  dark,  had  met 
my  cousin.  Commander  Thomas  Hutchins,  Naval  At- 
tache of  the  American  Legation,  and  Major  Austin 
Barker  of  the  British  Army,  whom  we  had  been  ex- 
pecting. They  had  reached  the  village  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  spent  the  afternoon  shoot- 
ing hares  near  a  beautiful  temple  which  Harry  had 
discovered  among  the  hills  three  miles  from  camp.  The 
boys  had  waited  dinner  for  me,  and  we  ate  it  amid  a 
gale  of  laughter — ^we  were  always  laughing  during  the 
five  days  that  Tom  and  Barker  were  with  us. 

Harry  was  out  of  the  hunting  the  next  day  because 
his  leg  needed  a  complete  rest.  I  took  Tom  out  with 
me,  while  Barker  was  piloted  by  an  old  Mongol  who 
gave  promise  of  being  a  good  hunter.  Tom  and  I 
climbed  the  white  trail  to  the  sunmiit  of  the  ridge,  while 
Barker  turned  off  to  the  left  to  gain  the  peaks  on  the 
other  side  of  the  gorge.  Na-mon-gin  was  keen  for  the 
big  ram  which  I  had  missed  the  day  before.    He  had 


214.  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

a  very  definite  impression  of  just  where  that  sheep  was 
to  be  found,  and  he  completely  ignored  the  ravines  on 
either  side  of  the  trail. 

Not  half  a  mile  from  the  summit  of  the  pass,  the 
Mongol  stopped  and  said,  "Pan-yang — on  that  ridge 
across  the  valley."  He  looked  again  and  turned  to 
me  with  a  smile.  "It  is  the  same  ram,''  he  said.  "I 
knew  he  would  be  here."  Sure  enough,  when  I  found 
the  sheep  with  my  glasses,  I  recognized  our  old  friend. 
The  little  ewe  was  with  him,  and  they  had  been  joined 
by  another  ram  carrying  a  circlet  of  horns,  not  far  short 
of  the  big  fellow's  in  size. 

For  half  an  hour  we  watched  them  while  the  Mon- 
gols smoked.  The  sheep  were  standing  on  the  very 
crest  of  a  ridge  across  the  river,  moving  a  few  steps 
now  and  then,  but  never  going  far  from  where  we  first 
discovered  them.  My  hunter  said  that  soon  they  would 
go  to  sleep,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  they  filed 
down  hill  into  the  valley;  then  we,  too,  went  down, 
crossed  a  low  ridge,  and  descended  to  the  river's  edge. 
The  climb  up  the  other  side  was  decidedly  stiff,  and  it 
was  nearly  an  hour  before  we  were  peering  into  the  ra- 
vine where  the  sheep  had  disappeared.  They  were  not 
there,  and  the  hunter  said  they  had  gone  either  up  or 
down  the  valley — ^he  could  not  tell  which  way. 

We  went  up  first,  but  no  sheep.  Then  we  crossed 
to  the  ridge  where  we  had  first  seen  the  argali  and  cau- 
tiously looked  over  a  ledge  of  rocks.  There  they  were, 
about  three  hundred  yards  below,  and  on  the  alert,  for 
they  had  seen  Tom's  hunter,  who  had  carelessly  ex- 


MONGOLIAN  ARGALI  215 

posed  himself  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge.  Tom  fired 
hurriedly,  neglecting  to  remember  that  he  was  shooting 
down  hill,  and,  consequently,  overshot  the  big  ram. 
They  rushed  off,  two  shots  of  mine  falling  short  at 
nearly  four  hundred  yards  as  they  disappeared  behind 
a  rocky  ledge. 

My  Mongol  said  that  we  might  intercept  them  if  we 
hurried,  and  he  led  me  a  merry  chase  into  the  bottom 
of  the  ravine  and  up  the  other  side.  The  sheep  were 
there,  but  standing  in  an  amphitheater  formed  by  in- 
accessible cliffs.  I  advocated  going  to  the  ridge  above 
and  trying  for  a  shot,  but  the  hunter  scoffed  at  the 
idea.  He  said  that  they  would  surely  scent  or  hear  us 
long  before  we  could  see  them, 

Tom  and  his  Mongol  joined  us  in  a  short  time,  and 
for  an  hour  we  lay  in  the  sunshine  waiting  for  the  sheep 
to  compose  themselves.  It  was  delightfully  warm,  and 
we  were  perfectly  content  to  remain  all  the  afternoon 
amid  the  glorious  panorama  of  encircling  peaks. 

At  last  Na-mon-gin  prepared  to  leave.  He  indi- 
cated that  we  were  to  go  below  and  that  Tom's  hunter 
was  to  drive  the  sheep  toward  us.  When  we  reached 
the  river,  the  Mongol  placed  Tom  behind  a  rock  at 
the  mouth  of  the  amphitheater.  He  took  me  halfway 
up  the  slope,  and  we  settled  ourselves  behind  two 
bowlders. 

I  was  breathing  hard  from  the  strenuous  climb,  and 
the  old  fellow  waited  until  I  was  ready  to  shoot;  then 
he  gave  a  signal,  and  Tom's  hunter  appeared  at  the 
very  simmiit  of  the  rocky  amphitheater.     Instantly  the 


216  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

sheep  were  on  the  move,  running  directly  toward  us. 
They  seemed  to  be  as  large  as  elephants,  for  never  be- 
fore had  I  been  as  close  to  a  living  argalL  Just  as  the 
animals  mounted  the  crest  of  a  rocky  ledge,  not  more 
than  fifty  yards  away,  Na-mon-gin  whistled  sharply, 
and  the  sheep  stopped  as  though  turned  to  stone. 

"Now,"  he  whispered,  "shoot."  As  I  brought  my 
rifle  to  the  level  it  banged  in  the  air.  I  had  been  show- 
ing the  hunters  how  to  use  the  delicate  set-trigger,  and 
had  carelessly  left  it  on.  The  sheep  instantly  dashed 
away,  but  there  was  only  one  avenue  of  escape,  and 
that  was  down  hill  past  me.  My  second  shot  broke  the 
hind  leg  of  the  big  ram;  the  third  struck  him  in  the 
abdomen,  low  down,  and  he  staggered,  but  kept  on. 
The  sheep  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  valley  before 
my  fourth  bullet  broke  his  neck. 

Tom  opened  fire  when  the  other  ram  and  the  ewe 
appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the  amphitheater,  but  his 
rear  sight  had  been  loosened  in  the  climb  down  the 
cliff,  and  his  shots  went  wild.  It  was  hard  luck,  for  I 
was  very  anxious  to  have  him  kill  an  argalL 

The  abdomen  shot  would  have  finished  the  big  ram 
eventually,  and  I  might  have  killed  the  other  before  it 
crossed  the  creek;  but  experience  has  taught  me  that 
it  is  best  to  take  no  chances  with  a  wounded  animal  in 
rough  country  such  as  this.  I  have  lost  too  many 
specimens  by  being  loath  to  finish  them  off  when  they 
were  badly  hit. 

My  ram  was  a  beauty.  His  horns  were  almost  equal 
to  those  of  the  record  head  which  Harry  had  killed  on 


PLATE]  'XIV 


,5 J. J,  »=> 


»   »  >   :  >l  '  ».  > ' 


•,"«'••! 


WHERE    THE    BIGHORN    SHEEP    ARE    FOUND 


MONGOLIAN  ARGALI  «17 

the  first  day,  but  one  of  them  was  marred  by  a  broken 
tip.  The  old  warrior  must  have  weathered  nearly  a 
score  of  winters  and  have  had  many  battles.  But  his 
new  coat  was  thick  and  fine — ^the  most  beautiful  of  any 
we  had  seen.  As  he  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley  I 
was  impressed  again  by  the  enormous  size  of  an  argcdis 
body.  There  was  an  excellent  opportunity  to  com- 
pare it  with  a  donkey's,  for  before  we  had  finished  our 
smoke,  a  Mongol  arrived  driving  two  animals  before 
him.  The  sheep  was  about  one-third  larger  than  the 
donkey,  and  with  his  tremendous  neck  and  head  must 
have  weighed  a  great  deal  more. 

After  the  ram  had  been  skinned  Tom  and  I  left 
the  men  to  pack  in  the  meat,  skin,  and  head,  while  we 
climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  pass  and  wandered  slowly 
home  in  the  twilight.  Major  Barker  came  in  shortly 
after  we  reached  the  village.  He  was  almost  done,  for 
his  man  had  taken  him  into  the  rough  country  north 
of  camp.  A  strenuous  day  for  a  man  just  from  the 
city,  but  Barker  was  enthusiastic.  Even  though  he  had 
not  killed  a  ram,  he  had  wounded  one  in  the  leg  and 
had  counted  twenty  sheep — ^more  than  either  Harry  or 
I  had  seen  during  the  entire  time  we  had  been  at  Wu- 
shi-tu. 

When  we  awoke  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Tom 
stretched  himself  very  gingerly  and  remarked  that  the 
only  parts  of  him  which  weren't  sore  were  his  eyelids! 
Harry  was  still  hors  de  combat  with  the  strained  ten- 
don in  his  leg,  and  I  had  the  beginning  of  an  attack  of 
influenza.     Barker  admitted  that  his  joints  "creaked" 


218  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

considerably;  still,  he  was  full  of  enthusiasm.  We 
started  off  together  but  separated  when  six  miles  from 
camp.  He  found  sheep  on  the  uplands  almost  at  once, 
but  did  not  get  a  head.  Barker  was  greatly  handi- 
capped by  using  a  special  model  U.  S.  Army  Spring- 
field rifle,  which  weighed  almost  as  much  as  a  machine 
gun,  and  could  not  have  been  less  fitted  for  hunting  in 
rough  country.  No  man  ever  worked  harder  for  an 
argali  than  he  did,  and  he  deserved  the  best  head  in 
the  mountains.  By  noon  I  was  burning  with  fever  and 
almost  unable  to  drag  myself  back  to  camp.  I  arrived 
at  four  o'clock,  just  after  Tom  returned.  He  had  not 
seen  a  sheep. 

The  Major  hunted  next  day,  but  was  unsuccessful, 
and  none  of  us  went  to  the  mountains  again,  for  I  had 
nearly  a  week  in  bed,  and  Harry  was  only  able  to  hob- 
ble about  the  court.  On  the  28th  of  October,  Tom 
and  Barker  left  for  Peking.  Harry  and  I  were  sorry 
to  have  them  leave  us.  I  have  camped  with  many  men 
in  many  countries  of  the  world,  but  with  no  two  who 
were  better  field  companions.  Neither  Harry  nor  I 
will  ever  forget  the  happy  days  with  them. 

It  was  evident  that  I  could  not  hunt  again  for  at 
least  a  week,  although  I  could  sit  a  horse.  We  had 
seven  sheep,  and  the  group  was  assured;  therefore,  we 
decided  to  shift  camp  to  the  wapiti  country,  fifty  miles 
away  hoping  that  by  the  time  we  reached  there,  we 
both  would  be  fit  again. 


I 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  "HORSE-DEER"  OF  SHANSI 

All  the  morning  our  carts  had  bumped  and  rattled 
over  the  stones  in  a  somber  valley  one  hundred  and 
fifty  U^  from  where  we  had  killed  the  sheep.  With 
every  mile  the  precipitous  cliffs  pressed  in  more  closely 
upon  us  until  at  last  the  gorge  was  blocked  by  a  sheer 
wall  of  rock.  Our  destination  was  a  village  named 
Wu-tai-hai,  but  there  appeared  to  be  no  possible  place 
for  a  village  in  that  narrow  canon. 

We  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  barrier  before 
we  could  distinguish  a  group  of  mud- walled  huts,  seem- 
ingly plastered  against  the  rock  like  a  collection  of 
swallows'  nests.  No  one  but  a  Chinese  would  have 
dreamed  of  building  a  house  in  that  desolate  place. 
It  was  Wu-tai-hai,  without  a  doubt,  and  Harry  and  I 
rode  forward  to  investigate. 

At  the  door  of  a  tiny  hut  we  were  met  by  one  of 
our  Chinese  taxidermists.  He  ushered  us  into  the 
court  and,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  announced,  "This 
is  the  American  Legation."  The  yard  was  a  mass  of 
straw  and  mud.  From  the  gaping  windows  of  the 
house  bits  of  torn  paper  fluttered  in  the  wind;  inside, 
at  one  end  of  the  largest  room,  was  a  bed  platform 

1 A  li  equals  about  one-third  of  a  mile. 

219 


no  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

made  of  mud;  at  the  other,  a  fat  mother  hog  with  five 
squirming  "piglets"  sprawled  contentedly  on  the  dirt 
floor.  Six  years  before  Colonel  (then  Captain) 
Thomas  Holcomb,  of  the  United  States  Marine  Corps, 
had  spent  several  days  at  this  hut  while  hunting  elk. 
Therefore,  it  will  be  known  to  Peking  Chinese  until 
the  end  of  time  as  the  "American  Legation." 

An  inspection  of  the  remaining  houses  in  the  village 
disclosed  no  better  quarters,  so  our  boys  ousted  the 
sow  and  her  family,  swept  the  house,  spread  the  kang 
and  floor  with  clean  straw,  and  pasted  fresh  paper  over 
the  windows.  We  longed  to  use  our  tents,  but  there 
was  nothing  except  straw  or  grass  to  bum,  and  cook- 
ing would  be  impossible.  The  villagers  were  too  poor 
to  buy  coal  from  Kwei-hua-cheng,  forty  miles  away, 
and  there  was  not  a  sign  of  wood  on  the  bare,  brown 
hills. 

At  the  edge  of  the  kanffj  in  these  north  Shansi  houses, 
there  is  always  a  clay  stove  which  supports  a  huge  iron 
pot.  A  hand  bellows  is  built  into  the  side  of  the  stove, 
and  by  feeding  straw  or  grass  with  one  hand  and  ener- 
getically manipulating  the  bellows  with  the  other,  a 
fire  sufiicient  for  simple  cooking  is  obtained. 

Except  for  a  few  hours  of  the  day  the  house  is  as 
cold  as  the  yard  outside,  but  the  natives  mind  it  not  at 
all.  Men  and  women  alike  dress  in  sheepskin  coats 
and  padded  cotton  trousers.  They  do  not  expect  to 
remove  their  clothing  when  they  come  indoors,  and 
warmth,  except  at  night,  is  a  nonessential  in  their 
scheme  of  life.    A  system  of  flues  draws  the  heat  from 


I 


THE  "HORSE-DEER"  OF  SHANSI  221 

the  cooking  fires  underneath  the  kang^  and  the  clay 
bricks  retain  their  temperature  for  several  hours. 

At  best  the  north  China  natives  lead  a  cheerless  ex- 
istence in  winter.  The  house  is  not  a  home.  Dark, 
cold,  dirty,  it  is  merely  a  place  in  which  to  eat  and  sleep. 
There  is  no  home-making  instinct  in  the  Chinese  wife, 
for  a  centuries'  old  social  system,  based  on  the  Con- 
fucian ethics,  has  smothered  every  thought  of  the  priv- 
ileges of  womanhood.  Her  place  is  to  cook,  sew,  and 
bear  children;  to  reflect  only  the  thoughts  of  her  lord 
and  master — to  have  none  of  her  own. 

Wu-tai-hai  was  typical  of  villages  of  its  class  in  all 
north  China;  mud  huts,  each  with  a  tiny  courtyard, 
built  end  to  end  in  a  corner  of  the  hillside.  A  few  acres 
of  ground  in  the  valley  bottom  and  on  the  mountain 
side  capable  of  cultivation  yield  enough  wheat,  corn, 
turnips,  cabbages,  and  potatoes  to  give  the  natives  food. 
Their  life  is  one  of  work  with  few  pleasures,  and  yet 
they  are  content  because  they  know  nothing  else. 

Imagine,  then,  what  it  meant  when  we  suddenly  in- 
jected ourselves  into  their  midst.  We  had  come  from 
a  world  beyond  the  mountains — a  world  of  which  they 
had  sometimes  heard,  but  which  was  as  unreal  to  them 
as  that  of  another  planet.  Europe  and  America  were 
merely  names.  A  few  had  learned  from  passing  sol- 
diers that  these  strange  men  in  that  dim,  far  land  had 
been  fighting  among  themselves  and  that  China,  too, 
was  in  some  vague  way  connected  with  the  struggle. 

But  it  had  not  affected  them  in  their  tiny  rock-boimd 
village.    Their  world  was  encompassed  within  the  val- 


222  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

ley  walls  or,  in  its  uttermost  limits,  extended  to  Kwei- 
hua-cheng,  forty  miles  away.  They  knew,  even,  that 
a  "fire  carriage"  running  on  two  rails  of  steel  came 
regularly  to  Feng-chen,  four  days'  travel  to  the  east, 
but  few  of  them  had  ever  seen  it.  So  it  was  almost 
as  unreal  as  stories  of  the  war  and  aeroplanes  and 
automobiles. 

All  the  village  gathered  at  the  "American  Lega- 
tion" while  we  unpacked  our  carts.  They  gazed  in 
silent  awe  at  our  guns  and  cameras  and  sleeping  bags, 
but  the  trays  of  specimens  brought  forth  an  active  re- 
sponse. Here  was  something  that  was  a  part  of  their 
own  life — something  they  could  understand.  Mice  and 
rabbits  like  these  they  had  seen  in  their  own  fields ;  that 
weasel  was  the  same  kind  of  animal  which  sometimes 
stole  their  chickens.  They  pointed  to  the  rocks  when 
they  saw  a  red-legged  partridge,  and  told  us  there  were 
many  there;  also  pheasants. 

Why  we  wanted  the  skins  they  could  not  understand, 
of  course.  I  told  them  that  we  would  take  them  far 
away  across  the  ocean  to  America  and  put  them  in  a 
great  house  as  large  as  that  hill  across  the  valley;  but 
they  smilingly  shook  their  heads.  The  ocean  meant 
nothing  to  them,  and  as  for  a  house  as  large  as  a  hill — 
well,  there  never  could  be  such  a  place.  They  were  per- 
fectly sure  of  that. 

We  had  come  to  Wu-tai-hai  to  hunt  wapiti — ma-lu 
(horse-deer)  the  natives  call  them — and  they  assured 
us  that  we  could  find  them  on  the  mountains  behind 
the  village.     Only  last  night,  said  one  of  the  men,  he 


THE  "HORSE-DEER"  OF  SHANSI  nS 

had  seen  four  standing  on  the  hillside.  Two  had  ant- 
lers as  long  as  that  stick,  but  they  were  no  good  now 
— ^the  horns  were  hard — we  should  have  come  in  the 
spring  when  they  were  soft.  Then  each  pair  was  worth 
$150,  at  least,  and  big  ones  even  more.  The  doctors 
make  wonderful  medicine  from  the  horns — only  a  lit- 
tle of  it  would  cure  any  disease  no  matter  how  bad  it 
was.  They  themselves  could  not  get  the  ma-lu^  for  the 
soldiers  had  long  since  taken  away  all  their  guns,  but 
they  would  show  us  where  they  were. 

It  was  pleasant  to  hear  all  this,  for  we  wanted  some 
of  those  wapiti  very  badly,  indeed.  It  is  one  of  the 
links  in  the  chain  of  evidence  connecting  the  animals 
of  the  Old  World  and  the  New — the  problem  which 
makes  Asia  the  most  fascinating  hunting  ground  of  all 
the  earth. 

When  the  early  settlers  first  penetrated  the  forests 
of  America  they  found  the  great  deer  which  the  In- 
dians called  "wapiti."  It  was  supposed  for  many  years 
that  it  inhabited  only  America,  but  not  long  ago  similar 
deer  were  discovered  in  China,  Manchuria,  Korea,  Mon- 
golia, Siberia,  and  Turkestan,  where  undoubtedly  the 
American  species  originated.  Its  white  discoverers  er- 
roneously named  the  animal  "elk,"  but  as  this  title 
properly  belongs  to  the  European  "moose,"  sportsmen 
have  adopted  the  Indian  name  "wapiti"  to  avoid  con- 
fusion. Of  course,  changed  environment  developed 
different  "species"  in  all  the  animals  which  migrated 
from  Asia  either  to  Europe  or  America,  but  their  re- 
lationships are  very  close,  indeed. 


^U  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

The  particular  wapiti  which  we  hoped  to  get  at  Wu- 
tai-hai  represented  a  species  ahnost  extinct  in  China. 
Because  of  relentless  persecution  when  the  antlers  are 
growing  and  in  the  "velvet"  and  continual  cutting  of 
the  forests  only  a  few  individuals  remain  in  this  remote 
corner  of  northern  Shansi  Province.  These  will  soon 
all  be  killed,  for  the  railroad  is  being  extended  to  within 
a  few  miles  of  their  last  stronghold,  and  sportsmen  will 
flock  to  the  hills  from  the  treaty  ports  of  China. 

Our  first  hunt  was  on  November  first.  We  left  camp 
by  a  short  cut  behind  the  village  and  descended  to  the 
bowlder-strewn  bed  of  the  creek  which  led  into  a  tre- 
mendous gorge.  We  felt  very  small  and  helpless  as 
our  eyes  traveled  up  the  well-nigh  vertical  walls  to  the 
ragged  edge  of  the  chasm  a  thousand  feet  above  us. 
The  mightiness  of  it  all  was  vaguely  depressing,  and 
it  was  with  a  distinct  feeling  of  relief  that  we  saw  the 
cailon  widen  suddenly  into  a  gigiantic  amphitheater.  In 
its  very  center,  rising  from  a  ragged  granite  pedestal, 
a  pinnacle  of  rock,  crowned  by  a  tiny  temple,  shot  into 
the  air.  It  was  three  hundred  feet,  at  least,  from  the 
stream  bed  to  the  summit  of  the  spire — and  what  a 
colossal  task  it  must  have  been  to  transport  the  build- 
ing materials  for  the  temple  up  the  sheer  sides  of  rock ! 
The  valley  sinners  must  gain  much  merit  from  the  dan- 
ger and  effort  involved  in  climbing  there  to  worship. 

Farther  on  we  passed  two  villages  and  then  turned 
off  to  the  right  up  a  tributary  valley.  We  were  anx- 
iously looking  for  signs  of  forest,  but  the  only  possible 
cover  was  in  a  few  ravines  where  a  sparse  growth  of 


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:3IAP   OF   3IONGOLIA    AXD    CIIIXA    SIIOWIXG    ROUTE    OF   SECOXD    ASIATIC 
EXPEDITION   IN  BROKEN   LINES 


THE  "HORSE-DEER"  OF  SHANSI  226 

birch  and  poplar  bushes,  not  more  than  six  or  eight 
feet  high,  grew  on  the  north  slope.  Moreover,  we 
could  see  that  the  valley  ended  in  open  rolling  up- 
lands. 

Turning  to  Na-mon-gin,  I  said,  "How  much  farther 
are  the  ma-lu?"  "Here,"  he  answered.  "We  have  al- 
ready arrived.  They  are  in  the  bushes  on  the  moun- 
tain side." 

Caldwell  and  I  were  astounded.  The  idea  of  look- 
ing for  wapiti  in  such  a  place  seemed  too  absurd !  There 
was  hardly  enough  cover  successfully  to  conceal  a  rab- 
bit, to  say  nothing  of  an  animal  as  large  as  a  horse. 
Nevertheless,  the  hunters  assured  us  that  the  ma-lu 
were  there,  and  we  began  to  take  a  new  interest  in  the 
birch  scrub.  Almost  immediately  we  saw  three  roe- 
buck near  the  rim  of  one  of  the  ravines,  their  white 
rump-patches  showing  conspicuously  as  they  bobbed 
about  in  the  thin  cover.  We  could  have  killed  them 
easily,  but  the  hunters  would  not  let  us  shoot,  for  we 
were  after  larger  game. 

A  few  moments  later  we  separated,  Harry  keeping 
on  up  the  main  valley,  while  my  hunter  and  I  turned 
into  a  patch  of  brush  directly  above  us.  We  had  not 
gone  fifty  yards  when  there  was  a  crash,  a  rush  of  feet, 
and  four  wapiti  dashed  through  the  bushes.  The  three 
cows  kept  straight  on,  but  the  bull  stopped  just  on  the 
crest  of  the  ridge  directly  behind  a  thick  screen  of  twigs. 
My  rifle  was  sighted  at  the  huge  body  dimly  visible 
through  the  branches.  In  a  moment  I  would  have 
touched  the  trigger,  but  the  hunter  caught  my  arm. 


ne  ACROSS  mongolian  plains 

whispering  frantically,  "Don't  shoot!     Don't  shoot!" 

Of  course  I  knew  it  was  a  long  chance,  for  the  bullet 
almost  certainly  would  have  been  deflected  by  the  twigs, 
but  those  splendid  antlers  seemed  very  near  and  very, 
very  desirable.  I  lowered  my  rifle  reluctantly,  and  the 
bull  disappeared  over  the  hill  crest  whence  the  cows  had 
gone. 

"They'll  stop  in  the  next  ravine,"  said  the  hunter, 
but  when  we  cautiously  peered  over  the  ridge  the  ani- 
mals were  not  there — nor  were  they  in  the  next.  At 
last  we  found  their  trail  leading  into  the  grassy  uplands ; 
but  the  possibility  of  finding  wapiti,  these  animals  of 
the  forests,  on  those  treeless  slopes  seemed  too  absurd 
even  to  consider.  Yet,  the  old  Mongol  kept  straight 
on  across  the  rolling  meadow. 

Suddenly,  off  at  the  right,  Harry's  rifle  banged  three 
times  in  quick  succession — ^then  an  interval,  and  two 
more  shots.  Ten  seconds  later  three  wapiti  cows 
showed  black  against  the  sky  line.  They  were  coming 
fast  and  straight  toward  us.  We  flattened  ourselves 
in  the  grass,  lying  as  motionless  as  two  gray  bowlders, 
and  a  moment  later  another  wapiti  appeared  behind 
the  cows.  As  the  sun  glistened  on  his  branching  ant- 
lers there  was  no  doubt  that  he  was  a  bull,  and  a  big 
one,  too. 

The  cows  were  headed  to  pass  about  two  hundred 
yards  above  us  and  behind  the  hill  crest.  I  could  eas- 
ily have  reached  the  summit  where  they  would  have 
been  at  my  mercy,  but  lower  down  the  big  bull  also  was 
coming,  and  the  hunter  would  not  let  me  move.    "Wait, 


THE  "HORSE-DEER"  OF  SHANSI  ««7 

wait/'  he  whispered,  "we'll  surely  get  him.    Wait,  we 
can't  lose  him." 

"What  about  that  ravine?"  I  answered.  "He'll  go 
into  the  cover.  He  will  never  come  across  this  open 
hillside.     I'm  going  to  shoot." 

"No,  no,  he  won't  turn  there.  I  am  sure  he  won't," 
The  Mongol  was  right.  The  big  fellow  ran  straight 
toward  us  until  he  came  to  the  entrance  to  the  val- 
ley. My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  as  he  stopped  for  an 
instant  and  looked  down  into  the  cover.  Then,  for 
some  strange  reason,  he  turned  and  came  on.  Three 
hundred  yards  away  he  halted  suddenly,  swung  about, 
and  looked  at  the  ravine  again  as  if  half  decided  to  go 
back. 

He  was  standing  broadside,  and  at  the  crash  of  my 
rifle  we  could  hear  the  soft  thud  of  the  bullet  striking  * 
flesh;  but  without  a  sign  of  injury  he  ran  forward  and 
stopped  under  a  swell  of  ground.  I  could  see  just  ten 
inches  of  his  back  and  the  magnificent  head.  It  was  a 
small  target  at  three  hundred  yards,  and  I  missed  him 
twice.  With  the  greatest  care  I  held  the  little  ivory 
bead  well  down  on  that  thin  brown  line,  but  the  bullet 
only  creased  his  back.  It  was  no  use — I  simply  could 
not  hit  him.  Running  up  the  hill  a  few  feet,  I  had  his 
whole  body  exposed,  and  the  first  shot  put  him  down 
for  good. 

With  a  whoop  of  joy  my  old  Mongol  dashed  down 
the  steep  slope.  I  had  never  seen  him  excited  while 
we  were  hunting  sheep,  but  now  he  was  wild  with  de- 
light.   Before  he  had  quieted  we  saw  Harry  coming 


228  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

over  the  hill  where  the  wapiti  had  first  appeared.  He 
told  us  that  he  had  knocked  the  bull  down  at  long  range 
and  had  expected  to  find  him  dead  until  he  heard  me 
shooting.  We  found  where  his  bullet  had  struck  the 
wapiti  in  the  shoulder,  yet  the  animal  was  running  as 
though  untouched. 

I  examined  the  bull  with  the  greatest  interest,  for 
it  was  the  first  Asiatic  wapiti  of  this  species  that  I  had 
ever  seen.  Its  splendid  antlers  carried  eleven  points 
but  they  were  not  as  massive  in  the  beam  or  as  sharply 
bont  backward  at  the  tips  as  are  those  of  the  American 
elk.  Because  of  its  richer  coloration,  however,  it  was 
decidedly  handsomer  than  any  of  the  American  ani- 
mals. 

But  the  really  extraordinary  thing  was  to  find  the 
wapiti  there  at  all.  It  seemed  as  incongruous  as  the 
first  automobile  that  I  saw  upon  the  Gobi  Desert,  for 
in  every  other  part  of  the  world  the  animal  is  a  resi- 
dent of  the  park-like  openings  in  the  forests.  Here  not 
a  twig  or  bush  was  in  sight,  only  the  rolling,  grass- 
covered  uplands.  Undoubtedly  these  mountains  had 
been  wooded  many  years  ago,  and  as  the  trees  were  cut 
away,  the  animals  had  no  alternative  except  to  die  or 
adapt  themselves  to  almost  plains  conditions.  The 
sparse  birch  scrub  in  the  ravines  still  afforded  them 
limited  protection  during  the  day,  but  they  could  feed 
only  at  night.  It  was  a  case  of  rapid  adaptation  to 
changed  environment  such  as  I  have  seen  nowhere  else 
in  all  the  world. 

The  wapiti,  of  course,  owed  their  continued  exist- 


THE  "HORSE-DEER"  OF  SHANSI  229 

ence  to  the  fact  that  the  Chinese  villagers  of  the  valley 
had  no  firearms;  otherwise,  when  the  growing  antlers 
set  a  price  upon  their  heads,  they  would  all  have  been 
exterminated  within  a  year  or  two. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WAPITI,  ROEBUCK,  AND  GORAL 

After  the  first  day  we  left  the  "American  Legation" 
and  moved  camp  to  one  of  two  villages  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  valley  about  a  mile  nearer  the  hunting 
grounds.  There  were  only  half  a  dozen  huts,  but  they 
were  somewhat  superior  to  those  of  Wu-tai-hai,  and  we 
were  able  to  make  ourselves  fairly  comfortable.  The 
usual  threshing  floor  of  hard  clay  adjoined  each  house, 
and  all  day  we  could  hear  the  steady  beat,  beat,  beat, 
of  the  flails  pounding  out  the  wheat. 

The  grain  was  usually  freed  from  chaff  by  the  sim- 
ple process  of  throwing  it  into  the  air  when  a  brisk 
wind  was  blowing,  but  we  saw  several  hand  winnowing 
machines  which  were  exceedingly  ingenious  and  very 
effective.  The  wheat  was  ground  between  two  circular 
stones  operated  by  a  blindfolded  donkey  which  plodded 
round  and  round  tied  to  a  shaft.  Of  course,  had  the 
animal  been  able  to  see  he  would  not  have  walked  con- 
tinuously in  a  circle  without  giving  trouble  to  his  master. 

Behind  our  new  house  the  chffs  rose  in  sheer  walls 
for  hundreds  of  feet,  and  red-legged  partridges,  or 
chuckars,  were  always  calling  from  some  ledge  or 
bowlder.  We  could  have  excellent  shooting  at  almost 
any  hour  of  the  day  and  often  picked  up  pheasants, 

230 


WAPITI,  ROEBUCK,  AND  GORAL  231 

bearded  partridges,  and  rabbits  in  the  tiny  fields  across 
the  stream.  Besides  the  wapiti  and  roebuck,  goral  were 
plentiful  on  the  cliflfs  and  there  were  a  few  sheep  in 
the  lower  valley.  Altogether  it  was  a  veritable  game 
paradise,  but  one  which  I  fear  will  last  only  a  few  years 
longer. 

We  found  that  the  wapiti  were  not  as  easy  to  kill  as 
the  first  day's  hunt  had  given  us  reason  to  believe.  The 
mountains,  separated  by  deep  ravines,  were  so  high  and 
precipitous  that  if  the  deer  became  alarmed  and  crossed 
a  valley  it  meant  a  climb  of  an  hour  or  more  to  reach 
the  crest  of  the  new  ridge.  It  was  killing  work,  and 
we  returned  to  camp  every  night  utterly  exhausted. 

The  concentration  of  animal  life  in  these  scrub-filled 
gorges  was  really  extraordinary,  and  I  hope  that  a 
"game  hog"  never  finds  that  valley.  Probably  in  no 
other  part  of  China  can  one  see  as  many  roebuck  in 
a  space  so  limited.  It  is  due,  of  course,  to  the  unusual 
conditions.  Instead  of  being  scattered  over  a  large 
area,  as  is  usual  in  the  forest  where  there  is  an  abun- 
dance of  cover,  the  animals  are  confined  to  the  few  ra- 
vines in  which  brush  remains.  The  surrounding  open 
hills  isolate  them  almost  as  effectively  as  though  they 
were  encircled  by  water;  when  driven  from  one  patch 
of  cover  they  can  only  run  to  the  next  valley. 

The  facility  with  which  the  roebuck  and  wapiti  had 
adapted  themselves  to  utterly  new  conditions  was  a  con- 
tinual marvel  to  me,  and  I  never  lost  the  feeling  of  sur- 
prise when  I  saw  the  animals  on  the  open  hillside  or 
running  across  the  rolling,  treeless  uplands.    Had  an 


I 


232  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

elephant  or  a  rhinoceros  suddenly  appeared  in  place 
of  a  deer,  it  would  not  have  seemed  more  incongruous. 

After  we  had  killed  the  first  wapiti  we  did  not  fire 
a  shot  for  two  days,  even  though  roebuck  were  all  about 
us  and  we  wanted  a  series  for  the  Museum.  This  spe- 
cies, Capreolus  hedfordi,  is  smaller  both  in  body  and  in 
antlers  than  the  one  we  obtained  in  Mongolia  and  dif- 
fers decidedly  in  coloration. 

On  the  second  hunt  I,  alone,  saw  forty-five  roebuck, 
and  Harry,  who  was  far  to  the  north  of  me,  counted 
thirty-one.  The  third  day  we  were  together  and  put 
out  at  least  half  as  many.  During  that  time  we  saw 
two  wapiti,  but  did  not  get  a  shot  at  either.  Both  of 
us  were  becoming  decidedly  tired  of  passing  specimens 
which  we  wanted  badly  and  decided  to  go  for  roebuck 
regardless  of  the  possibility  of  frightening  wapiti  by 
the  shooting.  Na-mon-gin  and  the  other  hunters  were 
disgusted  with  our  decision,  for  they  were  only  inter- 
ested in  the  larger  game.  For  the  first  two  drives  they 
worked  only  half-heartedly,  and  although  seventeen 
deer  were  put  out  of  one  ravine,  they  escaped  without 
giving  us  a  shot. 

Harry  and  I  held  a  council  of  war  with  the  natives 
and  impressed  upon  them  the  fact  that  we  were  intend- 
ing to  hunt  roebuck  that  day  regardless  of  their  per- 
sonal wishes.  They  realized  that  we  were  not  to  be 
dissuaded  and  prepared  to  drive  the  next  patch  of  cover 
in  a  really  businesslike  manner. 

Na-mon-gin  took  me  to  a  position  on  the  edge  of  a 
projecting  rock  to  await  the  natives.    As  they  ap- 


WAPITI,  ROEBUCK,  AND  GORAL  2S3 

peared  on  the  rim  of  the  ravine  we  saw  five  roe  deer 
move  in  the  bushes  where  they  had  been  asleep.  Four 
of  them  broke  back  through  the  line  of  beaters,  but 
one  fine  buck  came  straight  toward  us.  He  ran  up  the 
slope  and  crossed  a  rock-saddle  almost  beneath  me,  but 
I  did  not  fire  until  he  was  well  away  on  the  opposite 
hillside ;  then  he  plunged  forward  in  his  tracks,  dead. 

Without  moving  from  our  position  we  sent  the  men 
over  the  crest  of  the  mountain  to  drive  the  ravines  on 
the  other  side.  The  old  Mongol  and  I  stretched  out 
upon  the  rock  and  smoked  for  half  an  hour,  while  I 
tried  to  tell  him  in  my  best  Chinese — ^which  is  very  bad 
— the  story  of  a  bear  hunt  in  Alaska.  I  had  just  killed 
the  bear,  in  my  narrative,  when  we  saw  five  roebuck 
appear  on  the  sky  line.  They  trotted  straight  toward 
Harry,  and  in  a  moment  we  heard  two  shots  in  quick 
succession.     I  knew  that  meant  at  least  one  more  deer. 

Five  minutes  later  we  made  out  a  roebuck  rounding 
the  base  of  the  spur  on  which  we  sat.  It  seemed  no 
larger  than  a  brown  rabbit  at  that  distance,  but  the 
animal  was  running  directly  up  the  bottom  of  the  ra- 
vine which  we  commanded.  It  was  a  buck  carrying 
splendid  antlers  and  we  watched  him  come  steadily  on 
until  he  was  almost  below  us. 

Na-mon-gin  whispered,  "Don't  shoot  until  he  stops"; 
but  it  seemed  that  the  animal  would  cross  the  ridge 
without  a  pause.  He  was  almost  at  the  summit  when 
he  halted  for  an  instant,  facing  directly  away  from 
us.  I  fired,  and  the  buck  leaped  backward  shot  through 
the  neck. 


234.  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Na-mon-gin  was  in  high  good  humor,  for  I  had  killed 
two  deer  with  two  shots.  Harry  brought  a  splendid 
doe  which  he  had  bored  neatly  through  the  body  as  it 
dashed  at  full  speed  across  the  valley  below  him.  Even 
the  old  Mongol  had  to  admit  that  the  wapiti  could  not 
have  been  greatly  disturbed  by  the  shooting,  and  all  the 
men  were  as  pleased  as  children.  There  was  meat 
enough  for  all  our  boys  as  well  as  for  the  beaters. 

Our  next  day's  hunt  was  for  goral  on  the  precipitous 
cliffs  north  of  camp.  Goral  belong  to  a  most  interest- 
ing group  of  mammals  known  as  the  "goat-antelopes" 
because  of  the  intermediate  position  which  they  occupy 
between  the  true  antelope  and  the  goats.  The  takin, 
serow,  and  goral  are  the  Asiatic  members  of  this 
sub-family,  the  ^Rupicaprince,  which  is  represented  in 
America  by  the  so-called  Rocky  Mountain  goat  and  in 
Europe  by  the  chamois.  The  goral  might  be  called  the 
Asiatic  chamois,  for  its  habits  closely  resemble  those 
of  its  European  relative. 

I  had  killed  twenty-five  goral  in  Yiin-nan  on  the  first 
Asiatic  expedition  and,  therefore,  was  not  particularly 
keen,  from  the  sporting  standpoint,  about  shooting  oth- 
ers. But  we  did  need  several  specimens,  since  the  north 
China  goral  represents  a  different  species,  Nemor- 
hcedus  caudatuSj  from  the  one  we  had  obtained  in  Yiin- 
nan,  which  is  A^.  griseiLS. 

Moreover,  Harry  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  get  sev-  J 
eral  of  the  animals  for  he  had  not  been  very  successful 
with  them.     He  had  shot  one  at  Wu-shi-tu,  while  we 
were  hunting  sheep,  and  after  wounding  two  others  at 


WAPITI,  ROEBUCK,  AND  GORAL  235 

Wu-tai-hai  had  begun  to  learn  how  hard  they  are  to 
kill. 

The  thousand-foot  climb  up  the  almost  perpendicular 
cliff  was  one  of  the  most  difficult  bits  of  going  which  we 
encountered  anywhere  in  the  mountains,  and  I  was 
ready  for  a  rest  in  the  sun  when  we  reached  the  sum- 
mit. Although  my  beaters  were  not  successful  in  put- 
ting out  a  goral,  we  heard  Harry  shoot  once  away  to 
the  right;  and  half  an  hour  later  I  saw  him  through 
my  binoculars  accompanied  by  one  of  his  men  who  car- 
ried a  goral  on  his  shoulders. 

On  the  way  Harry  disturbed  a  goral  which  ran  down 
the  sheer  wall  opposite  to  us  at  full  speed,  bouncing 
from  rock  to  rock  as  though  made  of  India  rubber.  It 
was  almost  inconceivable  that  anything  except  a  bird 
could  move  along  the  face  of  that  cliff,  and  yet  the 
goral  ran  apparently  as  easily  as  though  it  had  been  on 
level  ground.  I  missed  it  beautifully  and  the  animal 
disappeared  into  a  cave  among  the  rocks.  Although 
I  sent  two  bullets  into  the  hole,  hoping  to  drive  out  the 
beast,  it  would  not  move.  Two  beaters  made  their  way 
from  above  to  within  thirty  feet  of  the  hiding  place  and 
sent  down  a  shower  of  dirt  and  stones,  but  still  there 
was  no  sign  of  action.  Then  another  native  climbed  up 
from  below  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  and  just  as  he  gained 
the  ledge  which  led  to  the  cave  the  goral  leaped  out. 
The  Mongol  yelled  with  fright,  for  the  animal  nearly 
shoved  him  off  the  rocks  and  dashed  into  the  bottom  of 
the  ravine  where  it  took  refuge  in  another  cave. 

I  would  not  have  taken  that  thousand-foot  climb 


236  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

again  for  all  the  gorals  in  China,  but  Harry  started 
down  at  once.  The  animal  again  remained  in  its  cave 
until  a  beater  was  opposite  the  entrance  and  then  shot 
out  like  an  arrow  almost  into  Harry's  face.  He  was 
so  startled  that  he  missed  it  twice. 

I  decided  to  abandon  goral  hunting  for  that  day. 
Na-mon-gin  took  me  over  the  summit  of  the  ridge  with 
two  beaters  and  we  found  roebuck  at  once.  I  returned 
to  camp  with  two  bucks  and  a  doe.  In  the  lower  valley 
I  met  Harry  carrying  a  shotgun  and  accompanied  by 
a  boy  strung  about  with  pheasants  and  chuckars.  After 
losing  the  goral  he  had  toiled  up  the  mountain  again 
but  had  found  only  two  roebuck,  one  of  which  he  shot. 

Our  second  wapiti  was  killed  on  November  seventh. 
It  was  a  raw  day  with  an  icy  wind  blowing  across  the 
ridges  where  we  lay  for  half  an  hour  while  the  beaters 
bungled  a  drive  for  twelve  roebuck  which  had  gone  into 
a  scrub-filled  ravine.  The  animals  eluded  us  by  run- 
ning across  a  hilltop  which  should  have  been  blocked 
by  a  native,  and  I  got  only  one  shot  at  a  fox.  The  re- 
port of  my  rifle  disturbed  eight  wapiti  which  the  beat- 
ers discovered  as  they  crossed  the  uplands  in  the  di- 
rection of  another  patch  of  cover  a  mile  away. 

It  was  a  long,  cold  walk  over  the  hills  against  the  bit- 
ing wind,  and  after  driving  one  ravine  unsuccessfully 
Harry  descended  to  the  bottom  of  a  wide  valley,  while 
I  continued  parallel  with  him  on  the  summit  of  the 
ridge.  Three  roebuck  suddenly  jumped  from  a  shal- 
low ravine  in  front  of  me,  and  one  of  them,  a  splendid 
buck,   stopped  behind  a  bush.     It  was  too  great  a 


WAPITI,  ROEBUCK,  AND  GORAL  237 

temptation,  so  I  fired;  but  the  bullet  went  to  pieces  in 
the  twigs  and  never  reached  its  mark.  Harry  saw  the 
deer  go  over  the  hill  and  ran  around  the  base  of  a  rocky 
shoulder  just  in  time  to  intercept  three  wapiti  which 
my  shot  had  started  down  the  ravine.  He  dropped  be- 
hind a  bowlder  and  let  a  cow  and  a  calf  pass  within  a 
few  yards  of  him,  for  he  saw  the  antlers  of  a  bull  rock- 
ing along  just  behind  a  tiny  ridge.  As  the  animal  came 
into  view  he  sent  a  bullet  into  his  shoulder,  and  a  sec- 
ond ball  a  few  inches  behind  the  first.  The  elk  went 
down  but  got  to  his  feet  again,  and  Harry  put  him 
under  for  good  with  a  third  shot  in  the  hip. 

Looking  up  he  saw  another  bull,  alone,  emerging 
from  a  patch  of  cover  on  the  summit  of  the  opposite 
slope  four  hundred  yards  away.  He  fired  point-blank, 
but  the  range  was  a  bit  too  long  and  his  bullet  kicked 
up  a  cloud  of  snow  under  the  animal's  belly. 

I  was  entirely  out  of  the  race  on  the  summit  of  the 
hill,  for  the  nearest  wapiti  was  fully  eight  hundred  yards 
away.  Harry's  bull  was  somewhat  smaller  than  the 
first  one  we  had  killed,  but  had  an  even  more  beautiful 
coat. 

We  were  pretty  well  exhausted  from  the  week's 
strenuous  climbing  and  spent  Sunday  resting  and  look- 
ing after  the  small  mammal  work  which  our  Chinese 
taxidermists  had  been  carrying  on  under  my  direc- 
tion. 

Monday  morning  we  were  on  the  hunting  grounds 
shortly  after  sunrise.  At  the  first  drive  a  beautiful 
buck  roe  deer  ran  out  of  a  ravine  into  the  main  valley 


238  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

where  I  was  stationed.  Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of 
us  where  we  sat  under  a  rock  and  stopped  with  head 
thrown  up  and  one  foot  raised.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  beautiful  picture  which  he  made  standing  there 
against  the  background  of  snow  with  the  sun  glancing 
on  his  antlers.  Before  I  could  shoot  he  was  off  at  top 
speed  bounding  over  the  bushes  parallel  to  us.  My 
first  shot  just  creased  his  back,  but  the  second  caught 
him  squarely  in  the  shoulder,  while  he  was  in  mid-air, 
turning  him  over  in  a  complete  somersault. 

A  few  moments  later  we  saw  the  two  beaters  on  the 
hill  run  toward  each  other  excitedly  and  felt  sure  they 
had  seen  something  besides  roebuck.  When  they 
reached  us  they  reported  that  seven  wapiti  had  run  out 
directly  between  them  and  over  the  ridge. 

The  climb  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  was  an  ordeal. 
It  was  the  highest  ridge  on  that  side  of  the  valley  and 
every  time  we  reached  what  appeared  to  be  the  crest, 
another  and  higher  summit  loomed  above  us.  We  fol- 
lowed the  tracks  of  the  animals  into  a  series  of  ravines 
which  ran  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain 
and  tried  a  drive.  It  was  too  large  a  territory  for 
our  four  beaters,  and  the  animals  escaped  unobserved 
up  one  of  the  valleys.  Na-mon-gin  and  I  sat  on  the 
hillside  for  an  hour  in  the  icy  wind.  We  were  both 
shaking  with  cold  and  I  doubt  if  I  could  have  hit  a 
wapiti  if  it  had  stopped  fifty  feet  away. 

Harry  saw  a  young  elk  go  into  a  mass  of  birch  scrub 
in  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and  when  he  descended  to 
drive  it  out,  his  hunter  discovered  a  huge  bull  walking 


WAPITI,  ROEBUCK,  AND  GORAL  239 

slowly  up  a  ravine  not  two  hundred  yards  from  me  but 
under  cover  of  the  hill  and  beyond  my  sight. 

A  little  before  dark  we  started  home  by  way  of  a  deep 
ravine  which  extended  out  to  the  main  valley.  We 
were  talking  in  a  low  tone  and  I  was  smoking  a  cigarette 
— ^my  rifle  slung  over  my  shoulder.  Suddenly  Harry 
exclaimed,  "Great  Scott,  Roy!     There's  a  ma-lu," 

On  the  instant  his  rifle  banged,  and  I  looked  up  just 
in  time  to  see  a  bull  wapiti  stop  on  an  open  slope  of  the 
ravine  about  ninety  yards  away.  Before  I  had  un- 
slung  my  rifle  Harry  fired  again,  but  he  could  not  see 
the  notch  in  his  rear  sight  and  both  bullets  went  high. 

Through  the  peep  sight  in  my  Mannlicher  the  animal 
was  perfectly  visible,  and  when  I  fired,  the  bull  dropped 
like  lead,  rolling  over  and  over  down  the  hill.  He  at- 
tempted to  get  to  his  feet  but  was  unable  to  stand,  and 
I  put  him  down  for  good  with  a  second  shot.  It  all 
happened  so  quickly  that  we  could  hardly  realize  that 
a  day  of  disappointment  had  ended  in  success. 

On  our  way  back  to  camp  Harry  and  I  decided  that 
this  would  end  our  hunt,  for  we  had  three  fine  bulls, 
and  it  was  evident  that  only  a  very  few  wapiti  remained. 
The  species  is  doomed  to  early  extinction  for,  with  the 
advent  of  the  railroad,  the  last  stand  which  the  elk 
have  made  by  means  of  their  extraordinary  adaptation 
to  changed  conditions  will  soon  become  easily  accessible 
to  foreign  sportsmen.  We  at  least  could  keep  our  con- 
sciences clear  and  not  hasten  the  inevitable  day  by 
undue  slaughter.  In  western  China  other  species  of 
wapiti  are  found  in  greater  numbers,  but  there  can  be 


240  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

only  one  end  to  the  persecution  to  which  they  are  sub- 
jected during  the  season  when  they  are  least  able  to 
protect  themselves. 

It  is  too  much  to  hope  that  China  will  make  effective 
game  laws  before  the  most  interesting  and  important 
forms  of  her  wild  life  have  disappeared,  but  we  can  do 
our  best  to  preserve  in  museums  for  future  generations 
records  of  the  splendid  animals  of  the  present.  Not 
only  are  they  a  part  of  Chinese  history,  but  they  belong 
to  all  the  world,  for  they  furnish  some  of  the  evidence 
from  which  it  is  possible  to  write  the  fascinating  story 
of  those  dim,  dark  ages  when  man  first  came  upon  the 
earth. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN 

Shansi  Province  is  famous  for  wild  boar  among  the 
sportsmen  of  China.  In  the  central  part  there  are  low 
mountains  and  deep  ravines  thickly  forested  with  a 
scrub  growth  of  pine  and  oak.  The  acorns  are  a  fa- 
vorite food  of  the  pigs,  and  the  pigs  are  a  favorite  food 
of  the  Chinese — and  of  foreigners,  too,  for  that  matter. 
No  domestic  pork  that  I  have  ever  tasted  can  excel  a 
young  acorn-fed  wild  pig!  Even  a  full-grown  sow  is 
delicious,  but  beware  of  an  old  boar;  not  only  is  he 
tough  beyond  description,  but  his  flesh  is  so  "strong" 
that  it  annoys  me  even  to  see  it  cooked.  I  tried  to  eat 
some  boar  meat,  once  upon  a  time — ^that  is  why  I  feel 
so  deeply  about  it. 

It  is  useless  to  hunt  wild  pig  until  the  leaves  are 
off  the  trees,  for  your  only  hope  is  to  find  them  feed- 
ing on  the  hillsides  in  the  morning  or  early  evening. 
Then  they  will  often  come  into  the  open  or  the  thin 
forests,  and  you  can  have  a  fair  shot  across  a  ravine  or 
from  the  summit  of  a  hill.  If  they  are  in  the  brush  it 
is  well-nigh  impossible  to  see  them  at  all.  A  wild  boar 
is  very  clever  at  eluding  his  pursuers,  and  for  his  size 
can  carry  off  more  lead  and  requires  more  killing  than 
any  other  animal  of  which  I  know.     Therefore,  you 

241 


242  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

may  be  sure  of  a  decidedly  interesting  hunt.  On  the 
other  hand,  an  unsuspecting  pig  is  easy  to  stalk,  for  his 
eyesight  is  not  good ;  his  sense  of  smell  is  not  much  bet- 
ter; and  he  depends  largely  upon  hearing  to  protect 
him  from  enemies. 

In  Tientsin  and  Shanghai  there  are  several  sports- 
men who  year  after  year  go  to  try  for  record  tusks — 
they  are  the  real  authorities  on  wild  boar  hunting.  My 
own  experience  has  been  limited  to  perhaps  a  dozen 
pigs  killed  in  Korea,  Mongolia,  Celebes,  and  various 
parts  of  China. 

Harry  Caldwell  and  I  returned  from  our  bighorn 
sheep  and  wapiti  hunt  on  November  19.     He  was 
anxious  to  go  with  me  for  wild  boar,  but  business  re- 
quired his  presence  in  Foochow,  and  Everett  Smith, 
who  had  been  my  companion  on  a  trip  to  the  Eastern 
Tombs  the  previous  spring,  volunteered  to  accompany 
me.     We  left  on  November  28  by  the  Peking-Han- 
kow Railroad  for  Ping-ting-cho,  arriving  the  follow- 
ing  afternoon   at   two   o'clock.     There   we   obtained 
donkeys  for  pack  and  riding  animals.    All  the  traffic 
in  this  part  of  Shansi  is  by  mules  or  donkeys.     As  a 
result  the  inns  are  small,  with  none  of  the  spacious 
courtyards  which  we  had  found  in  the  north  of  the  prov- 
ince.    They  were  not  particularly  dirty,  but  the  open 
coal  fires  which  burned  in  every  kitchen  sometimes 
drove  us  outside  for  a  breath  of  untainted  air.     How 
it  is  possible  for  human  beings  to  exist  in  rooms  so 
filled  with  coal  gas  is  beyond  my  knowledge.     Of 
course,  death  from  gas  poisoning  is  not  unusual,  but  I 


WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  US 

suppose  the  natives  have  become  somewhat  iimnune  to 
its  effects. 

Our  destination  was  a  tiny  village  in  the  mountains 
about  eight  miles  beyond  Ho-shun,  a  city  of  consid- 
erable size  in  the  very  center  of  the  province.  Tai- 
5ruan-fu,  the  capital,  at  the  end  of  the  railway,  is  a 
famous  place  for  pigs;  but  they  have  been  hunted  so 
persistently  in  recent  years  that  few  remain  within  less 
than  two  or  three  days'  journey  from  the  city. 

It  was  a  three  days'  trip  from  the  railroad  to  Ho- 
shun,  and  there  was  little  of  interest  to  distinguish  the 
road  from  any  other  in  north  China.  It  is  always 
monotonous  to  travel  with  pack  animals  or  carts,  for 
they  go  so  slowly  that  you  can  make  only  two  or  three 
miles  an  hour,  at  best.  If  there  happens  to  be  shoot- 
ing along  the  way,  as  there  is  in  most  parts  of  Shansi, 
it  helps  to  pass  the  time.  We  picked  up  a  few  pheas- 
ants, some  chuckars,  and  a  dozen  pigeons,  but  did  not 
stop  to  do  any  real  hunting  until  we  entered  a  wooded 
valley  and  established  ourselves  in  a  fairly  comfortable 
Chinese  hut  at  the  little  village  of  Kao-chia-chuang.  On 
the  way  in  we  met  a  party  of  Christian  Brother  mis- 
sionaries who  had  been  hunting  in  the  vicinity  for  five 
days.  They  had  seen  ten  or  twelve  pigs  and  had  killed 
a  splendid  boar  weighing  about  three  hundred  and  fifty 
poimds  as  well  as  two  roebuck. 

The  mountains  near  the  village  had  been  so  thor- 
oughly hunted  that  there  was  little  chance  of  finding 
pigs,  but  nevertheless  we  decided  to  stay  for  a  day  or 
two.     I  killed  a  two-year-old  roebuck  on  the  first  after- 


244.  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

noon;  and  the  next  morning,  while  Smith  and  I  were 
resting  on  a  mountain  trail,  one  of  our  men  saw  an 
enormous  wild  boar  trot  across  an  open  ridge  and  dis- 
appear into  a  heavily  forested  ravine.  I  selected  a  post 
on  a  projecting  shoulder,  while  one  Chinese  went  with 
Smith  to  pick  up  the  trail  of  the  pig.  There  were  so 
many  avenues  of  escape  open  to  the  boar  that  I  had  to 
remain  where  it  was  possible  to  watch  a  large  expanse 
of  country. 

Smith  had  not  yet  reached  the  bottom  of  the  ravine 
when  the  native  who  had  remained  with  me  suddenly 
began  to  gesticulate  wildly  and  to  point  to  a  wooded 
slope  directly  in  front  of  us.  He  hopped  about  like 
a  man  who  has  suddenly  lost  his  mind  and  succeeded  in 
keeping  in  front  of  me  so  that  I  could  see  nothing  but 
his  waving  arms  and  writhing  body.  Finally  seizing 
him  by  the  collar,  I  threw  him  to  the  ground  so  vio- 
lently that  he  realized  his  place  was  behind  me.  Then 
I  saw  the  pig  running  along  a  narrow  trail,  silhouetted 
against  the  snow  which  lay  thinly  on  the  shaded  side  of 
the  hill. 

He  was  easily  three  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away 
and  I  had  little  hope  of  hitting  him,  but  I  selected  an 
open  patch  beyond  a  bit  of  cover  and  fired  as  he 
emerged.  The  boar  squealed  and  plunged  forward 
into  the  bushes.  A  moment  later  he  reappeared,  zig- 
zagging his  way  up  the  slope  and  only  visible  through 
the  trees  when  he  crossed  a  patch  of  snow.  I  emptied 
the  magazine  of  my  rifle  in  a  futile  bombardment,  but 
the  boar  crossed  the  summit  and  disappeared. 


WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  245 

We  picked  up  his  bloody  trail  and  for  two  hours 
followed  it  through  a  tangled  mass  of  scrub  and  thorns. 
It  seemed  certain  that  we  must  find  him  at  any  mo- 
ment, for  great  red  blotches  stained  the  snow  wherever 
he  stopped  to  rest.  At  last  the  trail  led  us  across  an 
open  ridge,  and  the  snow  and  blood  suddenly  ceased. 
We  could  not  follow  his  footprints  in  the  thick  grass 
and  abandoned  the  chase  just  before  dark. 

Two  more  days  of  unsuccessful  hunting  convinced 
us  that  the  missionaries  had  driven  the  pigs  to  other 
cover.  There  was  a  region  twelve  miles  away  to  which 
they  might  have  gone,  and  we  shifted  camp  to  a  vil- 
lage named  Tziloa  a  mile  or  more  from  the  scrub-cov- 
ered hills  which  we  wished  to  investigate. 

The  natives  of  this  part  of  the  country  were  in  no 
sense  hunters.  They  were  farmers  who,  now  that  the 
crops  were  harvested,  had  plenty  of  leisure  time  and 
were  glad  to  roam  the  hills  with  us.  Although  their 
eyesight  was  remarkable  and  they  were  able  to  see  a 
pig  twice  as  far  as  we  could,  they  had  no  conception  of 
stalking  the  game  or  of  how  to  hunt  it.  When  we  be- 
gan to  shoot,  instead  of  watching  the  pigs,  they  were 
always  so  anxious  to  obtain  the  empty  cartridge  cases 
that  a  wild  scramble  ensued  after  every  shot.  They 
were  like  street  boys  fighting  for  a  penny.  It  was  a 
serious  handicap  for  successful  hunting,  and  they  kept 
me  in  such  a  state  of  irritation  that  I  never  shot  so  badly 
in  all  my  life. 

We  found  pigs  at  Tziloa  immediately.  The  carts 
went  by  road  to  the  village,  while  Smith  and  I,  with  two 


246  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Chinese,  crossed  the  mountains.  On  the  summit  of  a 
ridge  not  far  from  the  village  we  met  eight  native  hunt- 
ers. Two  of  them  had  ancient  muzzle-loading  guns 
but  the  others  only  carried  staves.  Evidently  their 
method  of  hunting  was  to  surround  the  pigs  and  drive 
them  close  up  to  the  men  with  firearms. 

We  persuaded  one  of  the  Chinese,  a  boy  of  eighteen, 
with  cross-eyes  and  a  funny,  dried-up  little  face,  to 
accompany  us,  for  our  two  guides  wished  to  return 
that  night  to  Kao-chia-chuang.  He  led  us  down  a  spur 
which  projected  northward  from  the  main  ridge,  and 
in  ten  minutes  we  discovered  five  pigs  on  the  opposite 
side  of  a  deep  ravine.  The  sun  lay  warmly  on  the 
slope,  and  the  animals  were  lazily  rooting  in  the  oak 
scrub.  They  were  a  happy  family — a  boar,  a  sow,  and 
three  half -grown  piglets. 

We  slipped  quietly  among  the  trees  until  we  were 
directly  opposite  to  them  and  not  more  than  two  hun- 
dred yards  away.  The  boar  and  the  sow  had  disap- 
peared behind  a  rocky  corner,  and  the  others  were 
slowly  following  so  that  the  opportunity  for  a  shot 
would  soon  be  lost.  Telling  Smith  to  take  the  one  on 
the  left-,  I  covered  another  which  stood  half  facing  me. 
At  the  roar  of  my  rifle  the  ravine  was  filled  with  wild 
squeals,  and  the  pig  rolled  down  the  hill  bringing  up 
against  a  tree.  The  boar  rushed  from  behind  the  rock, 
and  I  fired  quickly  as  he  stood  broadside  on.  He 
plunged  out  of  sight,  and  the  gorge  was  still! 

Smith  had  missed  his  pig  and  was  very  much  dis- 
gusted.    The  three  Chinese  threw  themselves  down  the 


WILD  PIG&— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  247 

slope,  slipping  and  rolling  over  logs  and  stones,  and 
were  up  the  opposite  hill  before  we  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  ravine.  They  found  the  pig  which  I  had  killed 
and  a  blood-splashed  trail  leading  around  the  hill  where 
the  boar  had  disappeared. 

My  pig  was  a  splendid  male  in  the  rich  red-brown 
coat  of  adolescence.  The  bullet  had  struck  him  "amid- 
ships" and  shattered  the  hip  on  the  opposite  side.  From 
the  blood  on  the  trail  we  decided  that  I  had  shot  the 
big  boar  through  the  center  of  the  body  about  ten  inches 
behind  the  forelegs. 

We  had  learned  by  experience  how  much  killing  a 
full-grown  pig  required,  and  had  no  illusions  about 
finding  him  dead  a  few  yards  away,  even  though  both 
sides  of  his  path  were  blotched  with  red  at  every  step. 
Therefore,  while  the  Chinese  followed  the  trail.  Smith 
and  I  sprinted  across  the  next  ridge  into  a  thickly 
forested  ravine  to  head  off  the  boar. 

We  took  stations  several  yards  apart,  and  suddenly 
I  heard  Smith's  rifle  bang  six  times  in  quick  succes- 
sion. The  Chinese  had  disturbed  the  pig  from  a  patch 
of  cover  and  it  had  climbed  the  opposite  hill  slope  in 
full  view  of  Smith,  who  apparently  had  missed  it  ©very 
time.  Missing  a  boar  dodging  about  among  the  bushes 
is  not  such  a  difficult  thing  to  do,  and  although  poor 
Smith  was  too  disgusted  even  to  talk  about  it,  I  had  a 
good  deal  of  sympathy  for  him. 

We  had  little  hope  of  getting  the  animal  when  we 
climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  ridge  and  saw  the  tangle 
of  brush  into  which  it  had  disappeared,  but  neverthe- 


us  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

less  we  followed  the  trail  which  was  still  showing  blood. 
I  was  in  front  and  was  just  letting  myself  down  a  snow- 
covered  bowlder,  when  far  below  me  I  saw  a  huge  sow 
and  a  young  pig  walking  slowly  through  the  trees.  I 
turned  quickly,  lost  my  balance,  and  slipped  feet  first 
over  the  rock  into  a  mass  of  thorns  and  scrub.  A  loco- 
motive could  not  have  made  more  noise,  and  I  extri- 
cated myself  just  in  time  to  see  the  two  pigs  disappear 
into  a  grove  of  pines.  I  was  bleeding  from  a  dozen 
scratches,  but  I  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  ridge  and 
dashed  forward  hoping  to  cut  them  oiF  if  they  crossed 
below  me.  They  did  not  appear,  and  we  tried  to  drive 
them  out  from  the  cover  into  which  they  had  made  their 
way ;  but  we  never  saw  them  again.  It  was  already  be- 
ginning to  grow  dark  and  too  late  to  pick  up  the  trail 
of  the  wounded  boar,  so  we  had  to  call  it  a  day  and  re- 
turn to  the  village. 

One  of  our  men  carried  my  shotgun  and  we  killed 
half  a  dozen  pheasants  on  the  way  back  to  camp.  The 
birds  had  come  into  the  open  to  feed,  and  small  flocks 
were  scattered  along  the  valley  every  few  hundred 
yards.  We  saw  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  in  less 
than  an  hour,  besides  a  few  chuckars. 

I  have  never  visited  any  part  of  China  where  pheas- 
ants were  so  plentiful  as  in  this  region.  Had  we  been 
hunting  birds  we  could  have  killed  a  hundred  or  more 
without  the  slightest  difficulty  during  the  time  we  were 
looking  for  pigs.  We  could  not  shoot,  however,  without 
the  certainty  of  disturbing  big  game  and,  consequently, 
we  only  killed  pheasants  when  on  the  way  back  to  camp. 


WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  249 

During  the  day  the  birds  kept  well  up  toward  the  sum- 
mits of  the  ridges  and  only  left  the  cover  in  the  morning 
and  evening. 

Our  second  hunt  was  very  amusing,  as  well  as  success- 
ful. We  met  the  same  party  of  Chinese  hunters  early  in 
the  morning,  and  agreed  to  divide  the  meat  of  all  the 
pigs  we  killed  during  the  day  if  they  would  join  forces 
with  us.  Among  them  was  a  tall,  fine-looking  young 
fellow,  evidently  the  leader,  who  was  a  real  hunter — ^the 
only  one  we  found  in  the  entire  region.  He  knew  in- 
stinctively where  the  pigs  were,  what  they  would  do,  and 
how  to  get  them. 

He  led  us  without  a  halt  along  the  sunmiit  of  the 
mountain  into  a  ravine  and  up  a  long  slope  to  the  crest 
of  a  knifelike  ridge.  Then  he  suddenly  dropped  in  the 
grass  and  pointed  across  a  canon  to  a  bare  hillside.  Two 
pigs  were  there  in  plain  sight — one  a  very  large  sow. 
They  were  fully  three  hundred  yards  away  and  on  the 
edge  of  a  bushy  patch  toward  which  they  were  feeding 
slowly.  Smith  left  me  to  hurry  to  the  bottom  of  the 
canon  where  he  could  have  a  shot  at  close  range  if  either 
one  went  down  the  hill,  while  I  waited  behind  a  stone. 
Before  he  was  halfway  down  the  slope  the  sow  moved 
toward  the  patch  of  cover  into  which  the  smaller  pig  had 
already  disappeared.  It  must  be  then,  if  I  was  to  have 
a  shot  at  all.  I  fired  rather  hurriedly  and  registered  a 
clean  miss.  Both  pigs,  instead  of  staying  in  the  cover 
where  they  would  have  been  safe,  dashed  down  the  open 
slope  toward  the  bottom  of  the  canon.  At  my  first  shot 
all  eight  of  the  Chinese  had  leaped  for  the  empty  rifle 


250  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

shell  and  were  rolling  about  like  a  pack  of  dogs  after  a 
bone.  One  of  them  struck  my  leg  just  as  I  fired  the 
second  time  and  the  bullet  went  into  the  air;  I  delivered 
a  broadside  of  my  choicest  Chinese  oaths  and  the  man 
drew  off.  I  sent  three  shots  after  the  fleeing  sow,  but 
she  disappeared  unhurt. 

One  shell  remained  in  my  rifle,  and  I  saw  the  other 
pig  running  like  a  scared  rabbit  in  the  very  bottom  of 
the  canon.  It  was  so  far  away  that  I  could  barely  see 
the  animal  through  my  sights,  but  when  I  fired  it  turned 
a  complete  somersault  and  lay  still;  the  bullet  had  caught 
it  squarely  in  the  head. 

Meanwhile,  Smith  was  having  a  lively  time  with  the 
old  sow.  He  had  swung  around  a  corner  of  rock  just  in 
time  to  meet  the  pig  coming  at  full  speed  from  the  other 
side  not  six  yards  away.  He  tried  to  check  himself, 
slipped,  and  sat  down  suddenly  but  managed  to  fire 
once,  breaking  the  animal's  left  foreleg.  It  disappeared 
into  the  brush  with  Smith  after  it. 

He  began  an  intermittent  bombardment  which  lasted 
half  an  hour.  Bang,  bang,  bang — then  silence.  Bang, 
bang,  bang — silence  again.  I  wondered  what  it  all 
meant  and  finally  ran  down  the  bottom  of  the  valley 
until  I  saw  Smith  opposite  to  me  just  under  the  rim  of 
the  ravine.  He  was  tearing  madly  through  the  brush 
not  far  behind  the  sow.  As  the  animal  appeared  for  an 
instant  on  the  summit  of  a  rise  he  dropped  on  one  knee 
and  fired  twice.  Then  I  saw  him  race  over  the  hill,  leap- 
ing the  bushes  like  a  roebuck.  Once  he  rolled  ten  feet 
into  a  mass  of  thorn  scrub,  but  he  was  up  again  in  an 


WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  251 

instant,  hurdling  the  brush  and  fallen  logs,  his  eye  on 
the  pig. 

It  was  screamingly  funny  and  I  was  helpless  with 
laughter.  "Go  it,  Smith,"  I  yelled.  "Run  him  down. 
Catch  him  in  your  hands."  He  had  no  breath  to  waste 
in  a  reply,  for  just  then  he  leaped  a  fallen  log  and  I 
saw  the  sow  charge  him  viciously.  The  animal  had  been 
lying  under  a  tree,  almost  done,  but  still  had  life  enough 
to  damage  Smith  badly  if  it  had  reached  him.  As  the 
man  landed  on  his  feet,  he  fired  again  at  the  pig  which 
was  almost  on  him.  The  bullet  caught  the  brute  in  the 
shoulder  at  the  base  of  the  neck  and  rolled  it  over,  but 
it  struggled  to  its  feet  and  ran  uncertainly  a  few  steps; 
then  it  dropped  in  a  little  gully. 

By  the  time  I  had  begun  to  climb  the  hill  Smith 
shouted  that  the  pig  might  charge  again,  and  I  kept  my 
rifle  ready,  but  the  animal  was  "all  in."  I  circled  warily 
and,  creeping  up  from  behind,  drove  my  hunting  knife 
into  its  heart;  even  then  it  struggled  to  get  at  me  before 
it  rolled  over  dead. 

Smith  was  streaming  blood  from  a  score  of  scratches, 
and  his  clothes  were  in  ribbons,  but  his  face  was  radiant. 
"I'd  have  chased  the  blasted  pig  clear  to  Peking,"  he 
said.  "All  my  shells  are  gone,  but  I  wasn't  going  to  let 
him  get  away.  If  I  hadn't  kept  that  last  cartridge  he'd 
have  caught  me,  surely." 

It  was  fine  enthusiasm  and,  if  ever  a  man  deserved  his 
game.  Smith  deserved  that  sow.  The  animal  had  been 
shot  in  half  a  dozen  places ;  two  legs  were  broken,  and 
at  least  three  of  the  bullets  had  reached  vital  spots. 


262  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Still  the  brute  kept  on.  Any  one  who  thinks  pigs  are 
easy  to  kill  ought  to  try  the  ones  in  Shansi!  The  sow 
weighed  well  over  three  hundred  pounds,  and  it  required 
six  men  to  carry  the  two  pigs  into  camp.  We  got  no 
more,  although  we  saw  two  others,  but  still  we  felt 
that  the  day  had  not  been  ill  spent.  As  long  as  I  live 
I  shall  never  forget  Smith's  hurdle  race  after  that  old 
sow. 

Although  I  killed  two  roebuck,  the  next  day  I  re- 
turned to  camp  with  rage  in  my  heart.  Smith  and  I  had 
separated  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  was  hunting  with 
an  old  Chinese  when  we  discovered  three  pigs — a  huge 
boar,  a  sow,  and  a  shote — crossing  an  open  hill.  Crawl- 
ing on  my  face,  I  reached  a  rock  not  seventy  yards  from 
the  animals.  At  the  first  shot  the  boar  pitched  over  the 
bluff  into  a  tangle  of  thorns,  squealing  wildly.  My 
second  bullet  broke  the  shoulder  of  the  sow,  and  I  had 
a  mad  chase  through  a  patch  of  scrub,  but  finally  lost 
her. 

When  I  returned  to  get  the  big  boar  I  discovered  my 
Chinese  squatted  on  his  haunches  in  the  ravine.  He 
blandly  informed  me  that  the  pig  could  not  be  found.  I 
spent  the  half  hour  of  remaining  daylight  burrowing  in 
the  thorn  scrub  without  success.  I  learned  later  that 
the  native  had  concealed  the  dead  pig  under  a  mass  of 
stones  and  that  during  the  night  he  and  his  confreres 
had  carried  it  away.  Moreover,  after  we  left,  they  also 
got  the  sow  which  I  had  wounded.  Although  at  the  time 
I  did  not  suspect  the  man's  perfidy,  nevertheless  it  was 
apparent  that  he  had  not  kept  his  eyes  on  the  boar  as  I 


WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN 

had  told  him  to  do ;  otherwise  the  pig  could  not  possibly 
have  escaped. 

We  had  one  more  day  of  hunting  because  Smith  had 
obtained  two  weeks'  leave.  The  next  morning  dawned 
dark  and  cloudy  with  spurts  of  hail — ^just  the  sort  of 
weather  in  which  animals  prefer  to  stay  comfortably 
snuggled  under  a  bush  in  the  thickest  cover.  Conse- 
quently we  saw  nothing  all  day  except  one  roebuck, 
which  I  killed.  It  was  running  at  full  speed  when  I 
fired,  and  it  disappeared  over  the  crest  of  a  hill  without 
a  sign  of  injury.  Smith  was  waiting  on  the  other  side, 
and  I  wondered  why  he  did  not  shoot,  until  we  reached 
the  summit  and  discovered  the  deer  lying  dead  in  the 
grass.  Smith  had  seen  the  buck  plunge  over  the  ridge, 
and  just  as  he  was  about  to  fire,  it  collapsed. 

We  found  that  my  bullet  had  completely  smashed  the 
heart,  yet  the  animal  had  run  more  than  one  hundred 
yards.  As  it  fell,  one  of  its  antlers  had  been  knocked 
off  and  the  other  was  so  loose  that  it  dropped  in  my  hand 
when  I  lifted  the  head.  This  was  on  December  11. 
The  other  bucks  which  I  had  killed  still  wore  their  ant- 
lers, but  probably  they  would  all  have  been  shed  before 
Christmas.  The  growth  takes  place  during  the  winter, 
and  the  velvet  is  all  off  the  new  antlers  by  the  following 
May. 

On  the  way  back  to  camp  we  saw  a  huge  boar  stand- 
ing on  an  open  hillside.  Smith  and  I  fired  hurriedly 
and  both  missed  a  perfectly  easy  shot.  With  one  of  the 
Chinese  I  circled  the  ridge,  while  Smith  took  up  the 
animaFs  trail.    We  arrived  on  the  edge  of  a  deep  ravine 


254  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

just  as  the  boar  appeared  in  the  very  bottom.  I  fired 
as  it  rushed  through  the  bushes,  and  the  pig  squealed 
but  never  hesitated.  The  second  shot  struck  behind  it, 
but  at  the  third  it  squealed  again  and  dived  into  a  patch 
of  cover.  When  we  reached  the  spot  we  found  a  great 
pool  of  blood  and  bits  of  entrails — but  no  pig.  A  broad 
red  patch  led  through  the  snow,  and  we  followed,  ex- 
pecting at  every  step  to  find  the  animal  dead.  Instead, 
the  track  carried  us  down  the  hill,  up  the  bottom  of  a 
ravine,  and  onto  a  hill  bare  of  snow  but  thickly  covered 
with  oak  scrub. 

While  Smith  and  I  circled  ahead  to  intercept  the  pig, 
the  Chinese  followed  the  trail.  It  was  almost  dark  when 
we  went  back  to  the  men,  who  announced  that  the  blood 
had  ceased  and  that  they  had  lost  the  track.  It  seemed 
incredible;  but  they  had  so  trampled  the  trail  where  it 
left  the  snow  that  we  could  not  find  it  again  in  the 
gloom. 

Then  Smith  and  I  suspected  what  we  eventually 
found  to  be  true,  viz.,  that  the  men  had  discovered  the 
dead  pig  and  had  purposely  led  us  astray.  We  had  no 
proof,  however,  and  they  denied  the  charge  so  violently 
that  we  began  to  think  our  suspicions  were  unfounded. 

We  had  to  leave  at  daylight  next  morning  in  order  to 
reach  Peking  before  Smith's  leave  expired.  Two  days 
after  we  left,  one  of  my  friends  arrived  at  Kao-chia- 
chuang,  where  we  had  first  hunted,  and  reported  that 
the  Chinese  had  brought  in  all  four  of  the  pigs  which  we 
had  wounded.  One  of  them,  probably  the  boar  we  lost 
on  the  last  night,  was  an  enormous  animal  which  the 


WILD  PIGS— ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  255 

natives  said  weighed  more  than  five  hundred  pounds. 
Of  course,  this  could  not  have  been  true,  but  it  probably 
did  reach  nearly  four  hundred  pounds. 

What  Smith  and  I  said  when  we  learned  that  the 
scoundrels  had  cheated  us  would  not  look  well  in  print. 
However,  it  taught  us  several  things  about  boar  hunting 
which  will  prove  of  value  in  the  future.  The  Chinese 
can  sell  wild  pig  meat  for  a  very  high  price  since  it  is 
considered  to  be  a  great  delicacy.  Therefore,  if  I  wound 
a  pig  in  the  future  I  shall,  myself,  follow  its  trail  to  the 
bitter  end.  Moreover,  I  learned  that,  to  knock  over  a 
wild  boar  and  keep  him  down  for  good,  one  needs  a 
heavy  rifle.  The  bullet  of  my  6.5  mm.  Mannlicher, 
which  has  proved  to  be  a  wonderful  killer  for  anything 
up  to  and  including  sheep,  has  not  weight  enough  be- 
hind it  to  stop  a  pig  in  its  tracks.  These  animals  have 
such  wonderful  vitality  that,  even  though  shot  in  a  vital 
spot,  they  can  travel  an  unbelievable  distance.  Next 
time  I  shall  carry  a  rifle  especially  designed  for  pigs 
and  thieving  Chinese  I 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS 

The  sunshine  of  an  early  spring  day  was  flooding  the 
flower-filled  courtyards  of  Duke  Tsai  Tse's  palace  in 
Peking  when  Dr.  G.  D.  Wilder,  Everett  Smith,  and  I 
alighted  from  our  car  at  the  huge  brass-bound  gate. 
We  came  by  motor  instead  of  rickshaw,  for  we  were  on 
an  official  visit  which  had  been  arranged  by  the  Ameri- 
can Minister.  We  would  have  suffered  much  loss  of 
"face"  had  we  come  in  any  lesser  vehicle  than  an  auto- 
mobile, for  we  were  to  be  received  by  a  "Royal  High- 
ness," an  Imperial  Duke  and  a  man  in  whose  veins 
flowed  the  bluest  of  Manchu  blood.  Although  living  in 
retirement,  Duke  Tsai  Tse  is  still  a  powerful  and  a  re- 
spected man. 

We  were  ushered  through  court  after  court  into  a 
large  reception  hall  furnished  in  semi-foreign  style  but 
in  excellent  taste.  A  few  moments  later  the  duke  en- 
tered, dressed  in  a  simple  gown  of  dark  blue  silk.  Had 
I  met  him  casually  on  the  street  I  should  have  known 
he  was  a  "personality."  His  high-bred  features  were 
those  of  a  maker  of  history,  of  a  man  who  has  faced  the 
ruin  of  his  own  ambitions;  who  has  seen  his  emperor 
deposed  and  his  dynasty  shattered ;  but  who  has  lost  not 
one  whit  of  his  poise  or  self-esteem.    He  carried  himself 

256 


THE  GREAT  PARE  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     257 

with  a  quiet  dignity,  and  there  was  a  royal  courtesy  in 
his  greeting  which  inspired  profound  respect.  Had  he 
been  marked  for  death  in  the  revolution  I  am  sure  that 
he  would  have  received  his  executioners  in  the  same  calm 
way  that  he  met  us  in  the  reception  hall.  He  listened 
with  a  courteous  interest  while  we  explained  the  object 
of  our  visit.  We  had  come,  we  told  him,  to  ask  permis- 
sion to  collect  natural  history  specimens  in  the  great 
hunting  park  at  the  Tung  Ling,  Eastern  Tombs.  Here, 
and  at  the  Hsi  Ling,  or  Western  Tombs,  the  Manchu 
emperors  and  their  royal  consorts  sleep  in  splendid 
mausoleums  among  the  fragrant  pines. 

The  emperors  are  buried  at  the  lower  end  of  a  vast, 
walled  park,  more  than  one  hundred  miles  in  length. 
True  to  their  reverence  for  the  dead,  the  Chinese  con- 
querors have  never  touched  these  sacred  spots,  and 
doubtless  will  never  do  so.  They  belong  unquestion- 
ably to  the  Manchus,  even  if  their  dynasty  has  been 
overthrown  by  force  of  arms.  According  to  custom, 
some  member  of  the  royal  court  is  always  in  residence 
at  the  Eastern  Tombs.  This  fact  Tsai  Tse  gravely  ex- 
plained, and  said  that  he  would  commend  us  in  a  letter 
to  Duke  Chou,  who  would  be  glad  to  grant  us  the  privi- 
leges we  asked.  Then,  by  touching  his  teacup  to  his 
lips,  he  indicated  that  our  interview  was  ended.  With 
the  same  courtesy  he  would  have  shown  to  a  visiting 
diplomat  he  ushered  us  through  the  courtyards,  while  at 
each  doorway  we  begged  him  to  return.  Such  is  the 
custom  in  China.  That  same  afternoon  a  messenger 
from  the  duke  arrived  at  my  house  in  Wu  Liang  Taj  en 


258  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Hutung  bearing  a  letter  beautifully  written  in  Chinese 
characters. 

Everett  Smith  and  I  left  next  morning  for  the  East- 
ern Tombs.  We  went  by  train  to  Tung-cho,  twelve 
miles  away,  where  a  mafw  was  waiting  with  our  ponies 
and  a  cart  for  baggage.  The  way  to  the  Tung  Ling 
is  a  delight,  for  along  it  north  China  country  life  passes 
before  one  in  panoramic  completeness.  For  centuries 
this  road  has  been  an  imperial  highway.  I  could  imag- 
ine the  gorgeous  processions  that  had  passed  over  it  and 
the  pomp  and  ceremony  of  the  visits  of  the  living  em- 
perors to  the  resting  places  of  the  dead. 

Most  vivid  of  all  was  the  picture  in  my  mind  of  the 
last  great  funeral  only  nine  years  ago.  I  could  see  the 
imperial  yellow  bier  slowly,  solemnly,  borne  over  the 
gray  Peking  hills.  In  it  lay  the  dead  body  of  the  Dow- 
ager Empress,  Tz'u-hsi — ^most  dreaded  yet  most  beloved 
— the  greatest  empress  of  the  last  century,  the  woman 
who  tasted  of  life  and  power  through  the  sweetest  joys 
to  their  bitter  core. 

We  spent  the  first  night  at  an  inn  on  the  outskirts  of 
a  tiny  village.  It  was  a  clean  inn,  too — very  different 
from  those  in  south  China.  The  great  courtyard  was 
crowded  with  arriving  carts.  In  the  kitchen  dozens  of 
tired  mafus  were  noisily  gulping  huge  bowls  of  maca- 
roni, and  others,  stretched  upon  the  kang,  had  already 
become  mere,  shapeless  bundles  of  dirty  rags.  After 
dinner  Smith  and  I  wandered  outside  the  court.  An 
open-air  theater  was  in  full  operation  a  few  yards  from 
the  inn,  and  all  the  village  had  gathered  in  the  street. 


THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     259 

But  we  were  of  more  interest  to  the  audience  than  the 
drama  itself,  and  in  an  instant  a  score  of  men  and  women 
had  surrounded  us.  They  were  all  good-natured  but 
frankly  curious.  Finally  an  old  man  joined  the  crowd. 
"Why,"  said  he,  "there  are  two  foreigners!"  Immedi- 
ately the  hum  of  voices  ceased,  for  Age  was  speaking. 
"They've  got  foreign  clothes,"  he  exclaimed;  "and  what 
funny  hats !  It  is  true  that  foreign  hats  are  much  big- 
ger than  Chinese  caps,  and  they  cost  a  lot  more,  too! 
See  that  gun  the  tall  one  is  carrying!  He  could  shoot 
those  pigeons  over  there  as  easily  as  not — all  of  them 
with  one  shot — probably  he  will  in  a  minute." 

The  old  man  continued  the  lecture  until  we  strolled 
back  to  the  inn.  Undoubtedly  he  is  still  discussing  us, 
for  there  is  little  to  talk  about  in  a  Chinese  village,  ex- 
cept crops  and  weather  and  local  gossip. 

We  reached  the  Eastern  Tombs  in  the  late  afternoon 
of  the  same  day.  Emerging  from  a  rocky  gateway  on 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  we  had  the  whole  panorama  of  the 
Tung  Ling  spread  out  before  us.  It  was  like  a  vast 
green  sea  where  wave  after  wave  of  splendid  forests 
rolled  away  to  the  blue  haze  of  distant  mountains. 

The  islands  in  this  forest-ocean  were  the  yellow-roofed 
tombs,  which  gave  back  the  sun  in  a  thousand  points  of 
golden  light.  After  the  monotonous  brown  of  the  bare 
north  China  hills,  the  vivid  green  of  the  trees  was  as 
refreshing  as  finding  an  unknown  oasis  in  a  sandy  des- 
ert. To  the  right  was  the  picturesque  village  of  Ma- 
lin-yii,  the  residence  of  Duke  Chou. 

From  the  wide  veranda  of  the  charming  temple  which 


260  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

we  were  invited  to  occupy  we  could  look  across  the  brown 
village  to  the  splendid  park  and  the  glistening  yellow 
roofs  of  the  imperial  tombs.  We  found  next  day  that 
it  is  a  veritable  paradise,  a  spot  of  exquisite  beauty 
where  profound  artistic  sentiment  has  been  magnifi- 
cently expressed.  Broad,  paved  avenues,  bordered  by 
colossal  animals  sculptured  in  snow-white  marble,  lead 
through  the  trees  to  imposing  gates  of  red  and  gold. 
There  is,  too,  a  delightful  appreciation  of  climax.  As 
one  walks  up  a  spacious  avenue,  passing  through  gate 
after  gate,  each  more  magnificent  than  the  last,  one  is 
being  prepared  by  this  cumulative  splendor  for  the  tomb 
itself.  One  feels  everywhere  the  dignity  of  space. 
There  is  no  smallness,  no  crowding.  One  feels  the  great- 
ness of  the  people  that  has  done  these  things:  a  race  that 
looks  at  life  and  death  with  a  vision  as  broad  as  the  skies 
themselves. 

At  the  Tvm^g  Ling  Nature  has  worked  hand  in  hand 
with  man  to  produce  a  harmonious  whole.  Most  of  the 
trees  about  the  tombs  have  been  planted,  but  the  work 
has  been  cleverly  done.  There  is  nothing  glaringly 
artificial,  and  you  feel  as  though  you  were  in  a  well- 
groomed  forest  where  every  tree  has  grown  just  where, 
in  Nature's  scheme  of  things,  it  ought  to  be. 

Although  the  tombs  are  alike  in  general  plan,  they 
are,  at  the  same  time,  as  individual  as  were  the  emperors 
themselves.  Each  is  a  subtle  expression  of  the  character 
of  the  one  who  sleeps  beneath  the  yellow  roof.  The 
tomb  of  Ch'ien-Lung,  the  artist  emperor,  lies  not  far 
away  from  that  of  the  Empress  Dowager.     Stately, 


THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     261 

beautiful  in  its  simplicity,  it  is  an  indication  of  his  life 
and  deeds.  In  striking  contrast  is  the  palace  built  by 
the  Empress  for  her  eternal  dwelling.  A  woman  of 
iron  will,  holding  her  place  by  force  and  intrigue,  a  lover 
of  lavish  display — she  has  expressed  it  all  in  her  gor- 
geous tomb.  The  extravagance  of  its  decoration  and 
the  wealth  of  gold  and  silver  seem  to  declare  to  all  the 
world  her  desire  to  be  known  even  in  death  as  the  great- 
est of  the  great.  It  is  said  that  her  tomb  cost  ten  million 
dollars,  and  I  can  well  believe  it.  But  a  hundred  years 
from  now,  when  Ch'ien-Lung's  mausoleum,  like  the 
painting  of  an  old  master,  has  grown  even  more  beauti- 
ful by  the  touch  of  age,  that  of  the  Empress  will  be 
worn  and  tarnished. 

Charmed  with  the  calm,  the  peace,  the  exquisite 
beauty  of  the  spot,  we  spent  a  delightful  day  wandering 
among  the  red  and  gold  pavilions.  But  fascinating  as 
were  the  tombs,  we  were  really  concerned  with  the  "hin- 
terland," the  hunting  park  itself.  Sixty  miles  to  the 
north,  but  still  within  the  walls,  are  towering  mountains 
and  glorious  forests;  these  were  what  we  had  come  to 
see. 

All  day,  behind  three  tiny  donkeys,  we  followed  a 
tortuous,  foaming  stream  in  the  bottom  of  a  splendid 
valley,  ever  going  upward.  At  night  we  slept  in  the 
open,  and  next  day  crossed  the  mountain  into  a  forest 
of  oak  and  pine  sprinkled  with  silver  birches.  Hun- 
dreds of  wood-cutters  passed  us  on  the  trail,  each  car- 
rying a  single  log  upon  his  back.  Before  we  reached 
the  village  of  Shing  Lung-shan  we  came  into  an  area 


26^  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

of  desolation.  Thousands  of  splendid  trees  were  lying 
in  a  chaos  of  charred  and  blackened  trunks.  It  was  the 
wantonness  of  it  all  that  depressed  and  horrified  me. 

The  reason  was  perfectly  apparent.  On  every  bit  of 
open  ground  Manchu  farmers  were  at  work  with  plow 
and  hoe.  The  land  was  being  cleared  for  cultivation, 
regardless  of  all  else.  North  China  has  very  little  tim- 
ber— so  little,  in  fact,  that  one  longs  passionately  to  get 
away  from  the  bare  hills.  Yet  in  this  forest-paradise 
the  trees  were  being  sacrificed  relentlessly  simply  to  ob- 
tain a  few  more  acres  on  which  the  farmer  could  grow 
his  crops.  If  it  had  to  be  done — and  Heaven  knows  it 
need  not  have  been — the  trees  might  have  been  utilized 
for  timber.  Many  have  been  cut,  of  course,  but  thou- 
sands upon  thousands  have  been  burned  simply  to  clear 
the  hillside. 

At  Shing  Lung-shan  we  met  our  hunters  and  con- 
tinued up  the  valley  for  three  hours.  With  every  mile 
there  were  fewer  open  spaces ;  we  had  come  to  a  region 
of  vast  mountains,  gloomy  valleys,  and  heavy  forests. 
The  scenery  was  superb !  It  thrilled  me  as  did  the  moun- 
tains of  Yiin-nan  and  the  gorges  of  the  Yangtze.  Yet 
all  this  grandeur  is  less  than  one  hundred  miles  from 
Peking! 

On  a  little  ridge  between  two  foaming  streams  we 
made  our  camp  in  the  forest.  From  the  door  of  the 
tent  we  could  look  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  into  the 
blue  distance  of  the  valley;  behind  us  was  a  wall  of  for- 
ests broken  only  by  the  winding  corridor  of  the  moun- 
tain torrent. 


THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     263 

We  had  come  to  the  Tung  Ling  especially  to  obtain 
specimens  of  the  sika  deer  (Cervus  hortulorum)  and 
the  Reeves's  pheasant  {Syrmatictcs  reevesi).  The  for- 
mer, a  noble  animal  about  the  size  of  our  Virginia  deer 
in  America,  has  become  exceedingly  rare  in  north  China. 
The  latter,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  living  birds,  is 
found  now  in  only  two  localities — near  Ichang  on  the 
Yangtze  River,  and  at  the  Tung  Ling,  When  the  for- 
ests of  the  Eastern  Tombs  have  been  cleared  this  species 
will  be  extinct  in  all  north  China. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  left  with  six  hunters.  Our 
way  led  up  the  bottom  of  the  valley  toward  a  mountain 
ridge  north  of  camp.  As  we  walked  along  the  trail, 
suddenly  one  of  the  hunters  caught  me  by  the  arm  and 
whispered,  "Sang-cM'  (wild  chicken).  There  was  a 
whir  of  wings,  a  flash  of  gold — and  I  registered  a  clean 
miss  I  The  bird  alighted  on  the  mountain  side,  and  in 
the  bliss  of  ignorance  Smith  and  I  dashed  after  it.  Ten 
minutes  later  we  were  exhausted  from  the  climb  and  the 
pheasant  had  disappeared.  We  learned  soon  that  it  is 
useless  to  chase  a  Reeves's  pheasant  when  it  has  once 
been  flushed,  for  it  will  invariably  make  for  a  mountain 
side,  run  rapidly  to  the  top,  and,  once  over  the  summit, 
fly  to  another  ridge. 

On  the  way  home  I  got  my  first  pheasant,  and  an 
hour  later  put  up  half  a  dozen.  I  should  have  had  two 
more,  but  instead  of  shooting  I  only  stared,  fascinated 
by  the  beauty  of  the  thing  I  saw.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  and  the  sun  was  drawing  oblique  paths  of 
shimmering  golden  hght  among  the  trees.    In  a  clearing 


«64  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

near  the  summit  of  a  wooded  shoulder  I  saw  six  pheas- 
ants feeding  and  I  realized  that,  by  skirting  the  base  of 
the  ridge,  I  could  slip  up  from  behind  and  force  them 
to  fly  across  the  open  valley.  The  stalk  progressed  ac- 
cording to  schedule.  When  I  crossed  the  ridge  there 
was  a  whir  of  wings  and  six  birds  shot  into  the  air  not 
thirty  feet  away.  The  sun,  glancing  on  their  yellow 
backs  and  streaming  plumes,  transformed  them  into 
golden  balls,  each  one  with  a  comet-trail  of  living 
fire. 

The  picture  was  so  indescribably  beautiful  that  I 
watched  them  sail  across  the  valley  with  the  gun  idle  in 
my  hands.  Not  for  worlds  would  I  have  turned  one  of 
those  glorious  birds  into  a  crumpled  mass  of  flesh  and 
feathers.  For  centuries  the  barred  tail  plumes,  which 
sometimes  are  six  feet  long,  have  been  worn  by  Chinese 
actors,  and  the  bird  is  famous  in  their  literature.  It 
will  be  a  real  tragedy  when  this  species  has  passed  out 
of  the  fauna  of  north  China,  as  it  will  do  inevitably  if 
the  wanton  destruction  of  the  Timg  Ling  forests  is  con- 
tinued unchecked. 

The  next  afternoon  four  sika  deer  gave  me  a  hard 
chase  up  and  down  three  mountain  ridges.  Finally,  We 
located  the  animals  in  a  deep  valley,  and  I  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  examine  them  through  my  glasses.  Much  to 
my  disgust  I  saw  that  the  velvet  was  not  yet  ofl*  the 
antlers  and  that  their  winter  coats  were  only  partly  shed. 
They  were  valueless  as  specimens  and  forthwith  I  aban- 
doned the  hunt.  Before  leaving  Peking  I  had  visited 
the  zoological  garden  to  make  sure  that  the  captive 


I 


THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     265 

sika  had  assumed  their  summer  dress  and  antlers.  But 
at  the  Twng  Ling,  spring  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  the 
animals  were  late  in  losing  their  winter  hair. 

In  summer  the  sika  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all  deer. 
Its  bright  red  body,  spotted  with  white,  is,  when  seen 
among  the  green  leaves  of  the  forest,  one  of  the  loveliest 
things  in  nature.  We  wished  to  obtain  a  group  of  these 
splendid  animals  for  the  new  Hall  of  Asiatic  Life  in 
the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  but  the 
specimens  had  to  be  in  perfect  summer  dress. 

My  hunter  was  disgusted  beyond  expression  when  I 
refused  to  shoot  the  deer.  The  antlers  of  the  sika  when 
in  the  velvet  are  of  greater  value  to  the  natives  than 
those  of  any  other  species.  A  good  pair  of  horns  in  full 
velvet  sometimes  sells  for  as  much  as  $450.  The  grow- 
ing antlers  are  called  shueh-chiao  (blood  horns)  by  the 
Chinese,  who  consider  them  of  the  highest  efficacy  as  a 
remedy  for  certain  diseases.  Therefore,  the  animals  are 
persecuted  relentlessly  and  very  few  remain  even  in  the 
Ttmg  Ling. 

The  antlers  of  the  wapiti  are  also  of  great  value  to 
the  native  druggists,  but  strangely  enough  they  care 
little  for  those  of  the  moose  and  the  roebuck.  Hundreds 
of  thousand  of  deerhorns  are  sent  from  the  interior  prov- 
inces of  China  to  be  sold  in  the  large  cities,  and  the  com- 
plete extermination  of  certain  species  is  only  a  matter 
of  a  few  decades.  Moreover,  the  female  elk,  just  before 
the  calving  season,  receive  unmerciful  persecution,  for 
it  is  believed  that  the  unborn  fawns  have  great  medicinal 
properties. 


266  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

Since  the  roebuck  at  the  Tung  Ling  were  in  the  same 
condition  as  the  sika,  they  were  useless  for  our  purposes. 
The  goral,  however,  which  live  high  up  on  the  rocky- 
peaks,  had  not  begun  to  shed  their  hair,  and  they  gave 
us  good  shooting.  One  beautiful  morning  Smith  killed 
a  splendid  ram  just  above  our  camp.  We  had  often 
looked  at  a  ragged,  granite  outcrop,  sparsely  covered 
with  spruce  and  pine  trees,  which  towered  a  thousand 
feet  above  us.  We  were  sure  there  must  be  goral  some- 
where on  the  ridge,  and  the  hunters  told  us  that  they 
had  sometimes  killed  them  there.  It  was  a  stiff  climb, 
and  we  were  glad  to  rest  when  we  reached  the  summit. 
The  old  hunter  placed  Smith  opposite  an  almost  per- 
pendicular face  of  rock  and  stationed  me  beyond  him  on 
the  other  side.  Three  beaters  had  climbed  the  mountain 
a  mile  below  us  and  were  driving  up  the  ridge. 

For  half  an  hour  I  lay  stretched  out  in  the  sun  lux- 
uriating in  the  warmth  and  breathing  in  the  fragrant 
odor, of  the  pines.  While  I  was  lazily  watching  a  Chi- 
nese green  woodpecker  searching  for  grubs  in  a  tree 
near  by,  there  came  the  faintest  sound  of  a  loosened 
pebble  on  the  cliflf  above  my  head.  Instantly  I  was  alert 
and  tense.  A  second  later  Smith's  rifle  banged  once. 
Then  all  was  still. 

In  a  few  moments  he  shouted  to  me  that  he  had  fired 
at  a  big  goral,  but  that  it  had  disappeared  behind  the 
ridge  and  he  was  afraid  it  had  not  been  hit.  The  old 
hunter,  however,  had  seen  the  animal  scramble  into  a 
tiny  grove  of  pine  trees.  As  it  had  not  emerged,  I  was 
sure  the  goral  was  wounded,  and  when  the  men  climbed 


THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     267 

up  the  cliff  they  found  it  dead,  bored  neatly  through  the 
center  of  the  chest. 

Gorals,  sika,  and  roebuck  are  by  no  means  the  only 
big  game  animals  in  the  Tung  Ling,  Bears  and  leop- 
ards are  not  uncommon,  and  occasionally  a  tiger  is  killed 
by  the  natives.  Among  other  species  is  a  huge  flying 
squirrel,  nearly  three  feet  long,  badgers,  and  chipmunks, 
a  beautiful  squirrel  with  tufted  ears  which  is  almost 
black  in  summer  and  now  is  very  rare,  and  dozens  of 
small  animals.  But  perhaps  most  interesting  of  all  the 
creatures  of  these  noble  forests  are  the  only  wild  mon- 
keys to  be  found  in  northeastern  China. 

The  birds  are  remarkable  in  variety  and  numbers. 
Besides  the  Reeves's  pheasant,  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
there  are  two  other  species  of  this  most  beautiful  family. 
One,  the  common  ring-necked  pheasant,  is  very  abun- 
dant ;  the  other  is  the  rare  Pucrasia,  a  gray  bird  with  a 
dark-red  breast,  and  a  yellow  striped  head  surmounted 
by  a  conspicuous  crest.  It  is  purely  a  mountain  form 
requiring  a  mixed  forest  of  pine  and  oak  and,  although 
more  widely  distributed  than  the  Reeves's  pheasant,  it 
occurs  in  comparatively  few  localities  of  north  China. 

One  morning  as  Smith  and  I  were  coming  back  from 
hunting  we  saw  our  three  boys  perched  upon  a  ledge 
above  the  stream  peering  into  the  water.  They  called 
to  us,  "Would  you  like  some  fish?"  "Of  course,"  we 
answered,  "but  how  can  you  get  them?" 

In  a  second  they  had  slipped  from  the  rock  and  were 
stripping  off  their  clothes.  Then  one  went  to  the  shal- 
lows at  the  lower  end  of  the  pool  and  began  to  beat  the 


268  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

surface  with  a  leafy  branch,  while  the  other  two  crouched 
on  the  bowlders  in  midstream.  Suddenly,  one  of  the 
boys  plunged  his  head  and  arms  into  the  water  and 
emerged  with  a  beautiful  speckled  trout  clutched  tightly 
in  both  hands.  He  had  seen  the  fish  swim  beneath  the 
rock  where  it  was  cornered  and  had  caught  it  before  it 
could  escape. 

For  an  hour  the  two  boys  sat  like  kingfishers,  abso- 
lutely motionless  except  when  they  dived  into  the  water. 
Of  course,  they  often  missed ;  but  when  we  were  ready 
to  go  home  they  had  eight  beautiful  trout,  several  of 
them  weighing  as  much  as  two  pounds.  The  stream  was 
full  of  fish,  and  we  would  have  given  worlds  for  a  rod 
and  flies. 

Lii  baked  a  loaf  of  corn  bread  in  his  curious  little 
oven  made  from  a  Standard  Oil  tin,  and  we  found  a 
jar  of  honey  in  our  stores.  Brook  trout  fried  in  deep 
bacon  fat,  regular  "southern  style"  corn  bread  and 
honey,  apple  pie,  coffee,  and  cigarettes — ^the  "hardships 
of  camping  in  the  Orient!" 

When  we  had  been  in  camp  a  week  we  awoke  one 
morning  to  find  a  heavy  cloud  of  smoke  drifting  up  the 
valley.  Evidently  a  tremendous  fire  was  raging,  and 
Smith  and  I  set  out  at  once  on  a  tour  of  investigation. 
A  mile  down  the  valley  we  saw  the  whole  mountain  side 
ablaze.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  I  admit,  but  the  de- 
struction of  that  magnificent  forest  appalled  us.  For- 
tunately, the  wind  was  blowing  strongly  from  the  east, 
and  there  was  no  danger  that  the  fire  might  sweep  north- 
ward in  the  direction  of  our  camp.    As  we  emerged  into 


THE  GREAT  PARK  OF  THE  EASTERN  TOMBS     269 

a  tiny  clearing,  occupied  by  a  single  log  hut,  we  saw  two 
Chinese  sitting  on  their  heels,  placidly  watching  the 
roaring  furnace  across  the  valley. 

With  a  good  deal  of  excitement  we  asked  them  how 
the  fire  possibly  could  have  originated. 

"Oh,"  said  one,  "we  started  it  ourselves."  In  the 
name  of  the  five  gods  why  did  you  do  it?'*  Smith  asked. 
"Well,  you  see,"  returned  the  Chinese,  "there  was  quite 
a  lot  of  brush  here  in  our  clearing  and  we  had  to  get  rid 
of  it.    To-day  the  wind  was  right,  so  we  set  it  on  fire." 

"But  don't  you  see  that  you  have  burned  up  that 
whole  mountain's  side,  destroyed  thousands  of  trees, 
and  absolutely  ruined  this  end  of  the  valley?" 

"Oh,  yes,  but  never  mind;  it  can't  be  helped,"  the 
native  answered.  Then  I  exploded.  I  frankly  confess 
that  I  cursed  that  Chinese  and  all  his  ancestors;  which 
is  the  only  proper  way  to  curse  in  China.  I  assured  him 
that  he  was  an  "old  rabbit"  and  that  his  father  and  his 
grandfather  and  his  great-grandfather  were  rabbits. 
To  tell  a  man  that  he  is  even  remotely  connected  with 
a  rabbit  is  decidedly  uncomplimentary  in  China. 

But  when  it  was  all  said  I  had  accomplished  nothing. 
The  man  looked  at  me  in  blank  amazement  as  though  I 
had  suddenly  lost  my  mind.  He  had  not  the  faintest 
idea  that  burning  up  that  beautiful  forest  was  reprehen- 
sible in  the  slightest  degree.  To  him  and  all  his  kind, 
the  only  thing  worth  while  was  to  clear  that  bit  of  land 
in  the  valley.  If  every  tree  on  the  mountain  was  de- 
stroyed in  the  process,  what  difference  did  it  make?  It 
would  be  done  eventually,  anyway.    Land,  whether  it 


270  ACROSS  MONGOLIAN  PLAINS 

be  on  a  hill  or  in  a  valley,  was  made  to  grow  crops  and 
to  be  cultivated  by  Chinese  farmers. 

The  wanton  destruction  which  is  being  wrought  at 
the  Tung  Ling  makes  me  sick  at  heart.  Here  is  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  spots  in  all  China,  within  less  than 
one  hundred  miles  of  Peking,  which  is  being  ruined  ut- 
terly as  fast  as  ax  and  fire  can  do  the  work.  One  can 
travel  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  whole  Republic  and 
not  find  elsewhere  so  much  glorious  scenery  in  so  small 
a  space.  Moreover,  it  is  the  last  sanctuary  of  much  of 
north  China's  wild  life.  When  the  forests  of  the  Timg 
Ling  are  gone,  half  a  dozen  species  of  birds  and  mam- 
mals will  become  extinct.  How  much  of  the  original 
flora  of  north  China  exists  to-day  only  in  these  forests 
I  would  not  dare  say,  for  I  am  not  a  botanist,  but  it 
can  be  hardly  less  than  the  fauna  of  which  I  know. 

If  China  could  but  realize  before  it  is  too  late  how 
priceless  a  treasure  is  being  hewed  and  burned  to  noth- 
ingness and  take  the  first  step  in  conservation  by  making 
a  National  Park  of  the  Eastern  Tombs ! 

Politically  there  are  difficulties,  it  is  true.  The  Tung 
Ling,  and  all  the  surroundings,  as  I  have  said,  belong 
unquestionably  to  the  Manchus,  and  they  can  do  as  they 
wish  with  their  own.  But  it  is  largely  a  question  of 
money,  and  were  the  Republic  to  pay  the  price  for  the 
forests  and  mountains  beyond  the  Tombs  it  would  not 
be  difficult  to  do  the  rest.  No  country  on  earth  ever  had 
a  more  splendid  opportunity  to  create  for  the  genera- 
tions of  the  present  and  the  future  a  living  memorial  to 
its  glorious  past.  ^^j,  ^-^^^ 


INDEX 


Aeroplanes,  182 

Altai  Mountains,  182 

American  Museum  of  Natu- 
ral History,  Asiatic  Ex- 
plorations of,  vii;  trustees  of, 
viii,  ix. 

Anderson,  Dr.  J.  G.,  Mining  Ad- 
viser to  Chinese  Republic,  ix, 

39 
Anderson,  Meyer  and  Co.,  assist- 
ance   rendered    to    expedition 

by,  ix,  82,  138,  173 
Andrews,     Yvette     B.,     extract 

from  "Journal"  of,  46,  47 
Antelope,    description    of    hunt 

for,  15,  107;  speed  of,  23,  44, 

97,106,  118 
'Anthropoides  virgo,  11,  42,  55, 

88,  91,  93 
Argali,  174,  186,  197,  201,  210, 

212 
Argul,  desert  fuel,  11,  24,  84 
Asia,  viii 

Asia  Magazine,  ix 
Asian  plateau,  viii 
Asiatic  mammals,  viii 
Asiatic    zoological    explorations, 

vii 
Asses,  wild   (Equus  hemionus), 

88 
Atunzi,  169 
Avocets,  42 


Baikal  Lake,  25 

Barker,  Major  Austin,  213,  215, 

217 
Beach,  Rex,  quoted,  186 
Bear,  67 

Bennett,  C.  R.,  ix 
Bernheimer,      Mr.      and      Mrs. 

Charles  L.,  viii 
Bighorn  sheep  {Argali),  87,  174, 

186 
Boar,  67,  171 
Bogdo-ol  (God's  Mountain),  62, 

67,  88,  99,  142,  151 
Bolsheviki,  25,  32 
Bolshevism,  xii 
Buriats,  xiii 
Burma,  vii,  2 
Bustard,  23,  61,  95 

Caldwell,  Rev.  Harry  R.,  186, 

191,  195,  203,  212,  216,  225, 

232,  242 
Canadian  Pacific  Ocean  Service, 

transportation  to  America  of 

collections  by,  x 
Capreolus   bedfordi,  232 
Caravans,  camel,  IS,  27,  62,  66, 

91 
Casarca  casarca,  94 
Castle,  Rev.  H.,  x 
Cathay,  1,  64 
Cervus  hortulorum,  263 


271 


272 


INDEX 


Cheetah,  130 

Che-kiang,  Province  of,  x,  38 

Chen,  Chinese  taxidermist,  39> 
164 

Chinese,  xi,  8,  63,  75,  79 

Chinese  Turkestan,  182 

Chou,  Duke,  257 

Citellus  mongolicus  umhratus, 
42 

Coltman,  Charles  L.,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.,  ix,  2,  14,  25,  31,  47,  60, 
150,  185 

Cranes,  6l ;  demoiselle,  11,  42, 
55,  88,  91,  93 

Cricetulus,  131 

Cunningham,  Hon.  E.  S.,  Amer- 
ican Consul  General,  x 

Cygnopsis  cygnoides,  94 

Czechs,  26,  32 


Dane,  Sir  Richard,  185 

Da   Wat    Mountain,   camped   at 

foot  of,  144 
Delco    Electric    lighting    plant, 

39,  60 
De  Tarascon,  Tartarin,  47 
Dogs,  9,  76 
Dorchy,  Tserin,   144,   146,   149, 

151,  153,  155,  161,  163,  165, 

170,  172 
Ducks,    mallard,     11,    42,    95; 

ducks,  shoveler,  42,  95 


Eagles,  11 
Elk,  67,  238 
Equus  hemionus,  88 
Equus  prejevalski,  87 
Eulabeia  indica,  95 


Fabalis  anser,  95 
Fauna,  Mongolian,  vii 
Faxon,  H.  C,  ix 
Feng-chen,  187,  181 
Fuel,  11 

Gasella  gutturosa,  127;  Gazella 

prejevalski,  127;  Gazella  sub- 

gutturosa,  127 
Gazelles,  47,  48,  127 
Genghis  Khan,  xi,  3,  71,  84 
Gillis,  I.  v.,  ix 
Gobi  Desert,  1,  15,  27,  43,  62, 

77,  128,  175,  181 
God's      Mountain      (Bogdo-ol), 

62,  67,  151 
Goose,  bar-headed,  95;  bean,  95 
Gophers     (Citellus     mongolicus 

umbratus),  42,  99 
Goral,  194,  231,  234,  266 
Great  Wall  of  China,  2,  4,  8 
Grouse,  sand,  23 
Guptil,   A.   M.,   ix,   25,   26,   28, 

29,  31,  33,  37,  173 

Hami,  182 

Hamster,     desert     (Cricetulus), 

131 
Hares,  6l 

Harper's  Magazine,  ix 
Hei-ma-hou,  3,  4,  5,  7,  11,  33, 

39 
Holcomb,  Captain  Thomas,  220 
Honan,  38 
Horses,   wild    (Equus  prejeval- 

sJci),  87 
Ho-shun,  243 
Hsi  Ling,  257 
Hsu    Shu-tseng,    General,    xiii, 

141 


INDEX 


27S 


Hupeh,  38 

Hutchins,  C.  T.,  Naval  Attache, 

American  Legation,  ix,  213 
Hutukhtu,  the   Living   Buddha, 

xii,  xiii,  3,  60,  67,  68,  71 

Ibex,  87 

Irkutsk,  25,  29,  32 

Jackson,  G.  M.,  General  Pas- 
senger Agent,  Canadian  Pacific 
Ocean  Service,  appreciation 
for  assistance  in  transporta- 
tion of  collections  by,  x 

Jardine,  Matheson  and  Co.,  of 
Shanghai,  44 

Kalgan,  2,  3,  4,  5,  8,  13,  15,  28, 
29,  33,  35,  36,  39,  44,  99,  127, 
142,  176,  182,  183 

Kang,  Chinese  taxidermist,  39 

Kang  Hsi,  Emperor,  xiii 

Kao-chia-chuang,  243,  246 

Kendrick,  J.,  ix 

Khans,  63 

Kiakhta,  xiv,  179,  183 

Kobdo,  182 

Korostovetz,  M.,  xii 

Kublai  Khan,  xi,  1,  7,  71,  160 

Kwei-hua-cheng,  183,  193,  203 

Lake  Baikal,  25 

Lama  church,  71 

Lama  City,  76,  79 

Lamaism,  xi,  71 

Lamas,    14,   24,   62;   monastery 

of,  14 
Lapwing     (Fanellus    vanellus), 

94 
Lapwings,  11 


Larsen,  F.  A.,  ix,  9,  81,  118y 
141,  176 

"Little  Hsu,"  xiii 

Loo-choo  Islands,  31 

Lucander,  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  3,  5, 
18,  69,  79 

Lucas,  Dr.  F.  A.,  acknowledg- 
ment to,  viii 

Lii,  cook  for  expedition,  39,  85, 
117 

Lung  Chi'en,  Emperor,  tomb  of, 
260 

MacCallie,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  L., 
X,  39,  4:3,  46,  48,  50,  53,  54, 
57,  61,  75,  103,  164,  173 

Magyars,  25,  32 

Mai-ma-cheng,  62,  141,  173 

Mallards,  192 

Ma-lin-yu,  residence  of  Duke 
Chou,  259 

Ma-lu,  223,  225 

Mamen,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Oscar, 
X,  3,  25,  28,  61,  69,  103,  173 

Mammals,  Asiatic,  viii 

Manchu,  xi;  dynasty  of,  xiv 

Manchus,  8 

Mannlicher,  173,  239 

Marmota  robusta,  101 

Marmot,  25,  52,  6l,  88,  99,  100; 
Mongols*  method  of  captur- 
ing, 103,  174,  178 

Mauser,  16 

Meadow  mice  (Micratus),  93 

Memorial  addressed  to  Presi- 
dent of  Chinese  Republic,  xiii 

Micr&tus,  93,  100,  131 

Ministry  of  Foreign  Affairs,  ix 

Mongolia,  fauna  of,  vii;  religion 
of,  71 


274 


INDEX 


Mongolian    Trading    Company/ 

25 
Mongols,  8,  22,  41,  43;  dislike 

for  the  body  of  the  dead,  74 ; 

dress  of,  21,  64,  65;  food  of, 

78;  manner  of  riding  of,  21; 

manner  of  catching  trout  by, 

164;  morals  of,  78;  Southern, 

10 
Motion  picture  photography,  47, 

50,  136 
Motor  cars,  2,  3,  43,  50,  58,  62, 

66,  84,  134,  174,  182;  Ford, 

28;      hunting      from,      109; 

troubles  with,  13,  27,  150 
Musk  deer,  169,  170 
Mustela,  110 

Naha,  31 

Na-mon-gin,      Mongol     hunter, 

195,  196,  205,  210,  213,  232, 

236 
Nankou  Pass,  2 
Natural  History,  ix 
Nemorhcedus  caudatus,  234 
Nemorhcedus  griseus,  234 

Olufsen,  E.  V.,  ix,  82,  138,  142 

Omsk,  32 

Orlow,  A.,   Russian   Diplomatic 

Agent,  X,  88 
Osborn,    Henry    Fairfield,    viii, 

18 
Outer  Mongolia,  xii,  41 
Ovis  comosa,  186 
Ovis  jubata,  186 
Owen,  39,  50 

Panj-kiang,  telegraph  station  at, 
14,  22,  31,  44,  54,  128 


Pan-yang     wild     sheep,      176, 

180,  194,  201,  214 
Peck,  Willys,  ix 
Peking,  1,  26,  29,  37,  173,  178, 

183 
Peking-Hankow  Railroad,  242 
Peking  Press,  quoted  from,  xiii- 

XV 

Peking-Suiyuan     Railway,     44 ; 

motor  service  of,  180 
Perry,  Commodore,  31 
Pheasant,  Reeves's   (Syrmaticus 

reevesi)f  263 
Photography,  motion  picture,  47, 

50,  136 
Ping-ting-cho,  242 
Plover,  11,  45,  95 
Pluvialis  dominicus  fulvus,  45 
Polecat  (MuHela),  110 
Polo,  Marco,  12 
Prayer  wheels,  73,  80 
President,      Chinese      Republic, 

Memorial  addressed  to,  xiii 
Price,  Ernest  B.,  ix,  25,  33 
Prisons,  description  of,  80 
Pucrasia,  267 

Rat,   kangaroo    (Alactaga  mon- 

golicaf),  132 
Ravens,  11 
Red  Army,  xiv 
Redheads,  95 
Reinsch,  Paul  S.,  ix 
Rifles  used  on  expedition ;  Mann- 

licher,    173,   234;   Savage,   16 
Rockefeller  Foundation,  100 
Roebuck,  67,  154,  163,  194,  231, 

243 
RupicaprincB,  234 
Russia,  xii,  xiv 


INDEX 


275 


Russian  Consulate,  63 
Russians,  xii,  13,  67 
Russo-Chinese,  xii 

Sain  Noin  Khan,  87,  88,  97 

Savage  rifle,  16 

Serow,  38,  234 

Shanghai,  183 

Shansi  Mountains,  5 

Shantung,  88 

Sheep,  bighorn,  205 

Sheldrake     {Casarca     casarca), 

42,  94 
Shensi,  182 
Sherwood,  George  H.,  assistance 

rendered    to     expedition    by, 

viii 
Shing  Lung-shan,  261 
Shuri,  Palace,  32 
Sian-fu,  182 
Siberian  frontier,  179 
Sika  deer  (Cervus  hortulorum) , 


Skylarks,  93 

Smith,  E.  G.,  ix,  242,  244,  246, 

250,  253,  256 
Stefansson,  87 
Swan    geese     (Cygnopsis     cyg- 

noides),  94 
Syrmaticus  reevesi,  263 

Tabool,  9,  10 
Tai  Hai,  191 
Tai  yuan-fu,  243 
Takin,  234 
Tanu  Ulianghai,  xiv 
Tao  Kwang,  Emperor,  xiii 
Teal,  11,  42 

Telegraph  poles,  method  of  pro- 
tection of,  11 


Tenney,  Dr.  C.  D.,  ix 
Tent,  American  wall,  90;  Mon- 
gol, 85,  90 
Terelche  region,  172 
Terelche  River,  143,  147 
Terelche  Valley,  157 
Tibet,  vii,  106 
Tientsin,  178,  183 
Tola  River,  25,  28,  62,  68,  70, 

88,  91,  99,  158,  161,  164 
Tola  Valley,  67 
Tombs,  257 

Trans-Pacific  Magazine,  ix 
Trans-Siberian  Railroad,  183 
Trout,   manner   of   catching  by 

Mongols,  164 
Tsai  Tse,  Duke,  visit  to  palace 

of,  256 
Tung-cho,  258 
Tung-Ling,  257;  pheasants  and 

deer  found  at,  263 
Turin,    29,    31,    61,    104,    176, 

180;  lamasery  at,  23 
Tziloa,  pigs  found  at,  245 
Tz*u-hsi,      Dowager      Empress, 

funeral  of,  258 

Ude,  telegraph  station,  22,  31, 

55 
Uliassutai,  178,  182 
Urga,    important    fur    market, 

173,  178,  182 
Urumchi,  182 

Verkin  Udinsk,  183 
Vole,  meadow  (Microtut),  100, 
131 

Wai    Chiao    Pu,    (Ministry    of 
Foreign  Affairs),  ix 


276 


INDEX 


Wapiti,  164,  168,  172,  228,  231 
Warner,  Langdon,  31,  32 
Weatherall,  M.  E.,  ix 
Weinz,  Father,  Belgian  priest, 

35 
Wells,  description  of,  13 
White  Army,  xiv 
Wilder,  Dr.  George  D.,  ix,  256 
Wireless    station    in    course    of 

erection,  182 
Wolf,  61,  67 


Wu  Liang  Taj  en  Hutung,  38, 

257 
Wu-shi-tu,  234 
Wu-tai-hai,  219,  221,  235 

Yangsen,  Loobitsan,  Duke,  137, 

140,  144,  152 
Yero  mines,  gold  found  at,  179 
Yiin-nan,  vii,  2,  106 
Yurtt  Mongol  house,  description 

of,  10,  57,  63 


(I) 


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